The Lost Weapon
by Isolated Polar Bear
Summary: Mark's life was good for a freshman in high school. Then his life got flipped and upside down as he got pulled into a world of gods, monsters, and espionage. With his friend by his side, Mark sets out to find a missing weapon by the Winter Solstice to prevent a war that could tear the world apart. AU filled to the brim with OCs.
1. Previous Occupation

Chapter I

Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson, Coca Cola, or Frankenstein. They belong to their respective creators. Any events and similarities are merely coincidence as this piece is only used for entertainment.

* * *

"We should not fret for what is past, nor should we be anxious about the future; men of discernment deal only with the present moment."– Chanakya

* * *

Mark empathized with people who got sudden chills when he recounted the years his life changed forever. Those who felt it and immediately stopped reading, for they knew what would happen if they continued into this story. It would only be a matter of time before their presence was discovered.

Those who read about it and didn't feel the chill, he envied more than anything. They would only find it amusing since it had nothing to do with them whatsoever. They wouldn't have to face the same problems as the others reading this story.

His useless banter aside, he had to get it off his chest already. Some people know it started in a dormitory somewhere in Illinois. Even though winter didn't arrive, taking a step outside at the end of autumn weather was like being slapped in the face with a block of ice. Travelers never expect it until it's right behind them and driving over them with a bus called reality. Then again, as much as he hates to say it, the cold never bothered him anyway.

His point was proven further as he took a step out of the dorms wearing only a faded pair of loose jeans and a red shirt. Standing at five foot and four inches, Mark Ford was a mountain of muscle compared to many of his classmates. His breath frosted in the morning air, moisture collecting behind his glasses as it drifted past his lips and into the sky. Delicately, he removed the eye wear from the top of his nose to wipe away the condensing moisture on his lenses.

After successfully cleaning his specs, he placed them back on his head to survey the surrounding area. The previous night's snow sparkled before his eyes as he began to slowly walk along the sidewalk. His morning walk became a routine that his friend managed to drill into his head only after a short time of knowing him. "The sooner one begins the day, the sooner their day ends," he would often say.

Shaking his head, he muttered about his friend's sometimes strict belief system before picking up his pace. The crisp air from the lake brought a wave of cod to sweep down his spine. He cursed under his breath, blaming this cold weather on Obama's reelection results about a week ago despite the fact he knew political systems did not affect the weather. Had he known about the cold wave, he would not have complained to Tom as much as he did back when they first met.

Speaking of the devil, he spotted his friend of four years sitting on a park bench. His light tan friend sat in the morning light of the day with a red sweatshirt and dark grey, skinny jeans reading a small book. From across the park, he could tell he was lost within his own mind as he either didn't notice or didn't care that some gang members out of Chicago were trying to establish territory for themselves. Even without his glasses, Mark knew the interaction would turn south in a matter of moments so he started making a beeline for his friend before he did anything rash.

Unfortunately, rash decisions were a thing that Tom specialized in when people entered his personal space. Although Mark was still some distance away from the current conversation, he could tell Tom was about to open a can of whoop ass on the unsuspecting kids. If it's one thing that Mark picked up on after a couple of years knowing him, he knew that it was only a matter of time before Tom let out some pent up aggression.

It appeared that his patience ran out the second one of the criminals tried to slap his book out of his hands. Before his tormentor could further antagonize him, Tom shot out his boot clad foot onto the side of the guy's knee, the cracking of bone echoing throughout the park. As the kid fell, Tom grabbed him by his throat and flung his head first into the metal bench. The four other members decided to step up and attempt to land a hit on the now aggressive teen.

Every time Mark saw him fight, he could not help to be amazed by sheer power Tom had despite his shorter stature. For his short size, he could block and counter without a problem as if he could tell where each punch or kick was coming from before the fight even started. However that only occurred when his mind was clear. Whenever he got angered, his fighting style would change from calculated strikes and blocks to a merciless barrage of fists. Those two different styles of combat made him look like an entirely different person.

At that moment it seemed the gang was getting the upper hand as Tom's movements grew sloppier by the minute. Tom didn't see one of the kids charging at him with a collapsible baton raised. Before the baton could make contact with Tom's head, Mark's firm hand grabbed his arm. Turning his head, the kid received a brutal kick to the abdominals. Having the wind knocked out of him, he was unable to react to the haymaker coming somewhere from his right.

Turning to his friend, Tom smirked and commented, "You know… when I go out for a walk I prefer to be alone?"

"Well knowing you, wherever you go, you always manage to get into some sort of trouble," Mark responded to his friend.

"Yes but unlike you I can take care of myself," Tom remarked.

Having been ignored, one of the conscious remaining gang members dashed at Mark with the fallen baton extended only for him to simply catch the metal with his left hand. Mark let out a wince from the sting of metal meeting his palm but focused on the hoodlum attempting to jerk the baton from the his grip. Because the idiot's attention was focused on getting the improvised weapon out of the his hand, he did not notice Tom's fist until it connected with his jaw.

Once the ill-advised child fell to the ground, the duo slowly turned towards the remaining "gang" member, no older than eleven years of age, standing in shock. He was visibly shaking as they stared at him as Tom said, "Now, why don't you try and give me your best shot, kid?"

Blindly, the hoodlum rushed forward yelling at the top of his lungs with his knife outstretched. Giving a quick glance at each other, the two gave each other curt nods. Once he was within striking distance, Mark grabbed onto his wrist while Tom sent a left hook below the kid's ribs. As if on cue, bile erupted from his mouth onto the snow. Ripping the blade away from his hand, Mark used his leg to trip him back before Tom slammed him into the ground.

After a few seconds, the misled child fell unconscious, bile sticking to his lip and jacket. Slowly, the two turned to each other and did a quick, firm handshake before they heard the pained whimper of the leader. He was attempting to pull himself up from the ground with his arms but the awkward bend in his leg prevented him from placing any weight on it. As his back leaned against the metal bench, Tom walked other to him and crouched down next to the leader.

"This little soiree of ours was quite amusing," Tom stated. "It's been a while since I got to dance around for a bit. I kinda wish you guys put in a little more effort in though. I didn't even get to have the ache in my back out."

Immediately after stating this, Tom punched the kid in between the eyes with a resounding crunch of bones. As he drifted into unconsciousness, Tom wistfully said, "Perhaps it will be better next time."

Standing back up to his full height, Tom turned back to his friend. "You know," Tom began, "I keep telling you there is no need to worry."

"That is when I worry the most," Mark stated.

Chuckling at his statement, Tom walked past the teen, giving him a pat on the shoulder as a sign on condolence. "I didn't need the help. I could have taken care of it myself."

Mark turned to look at Tom as he began to stroll back towards the busier parts of town. Even if he just received some help from his friend, he would still find a way to state his independence. Shaking his head he jogged to catch up with Tom, he asked, "How long do you think it will take them to recover?"

"Well Mark," Tom began, "I am not doctor but it may take them a while to recover from today's events. If they go to a hospital, they might find medical treatment and potentially a night in jail for previous crimes. If they don't receive treatment, it will probably take a couple of months to recover from the physical pain, though I don't know if they will psychologically recover anytime soon."

Shaking his head, Mark replied, "It frightens me that you know this kind of stuff."

Hearing this, Tom stopped his walking. As he looked up to the sky, he stated, "Maybe it is less important to think about that and more important finding some food."

Giving a small smile, Mark asked, "Egg Harbor?"

"It wouldn't be a good Sunday if we didn't get brunch, my tall friend."

* * *

The duo walked through the familiar glass doors into the warm restaurant they frequented for brunch. This Sunday there were some friendly faces they already met from their many visits. The sweet smell of eggs and bacon cooking wafted through the air causing Mark's stomach to increase in hunger from their earlier events. They almost always had breakfast over at the dorm but they made it a personal goal to eat there at least once a week to have some motivation to actually go outside on the weekend.

"Hey, boys," a blonde waitress called over to the duo. "Do you guys want your usual seats at the bar?"

"Why are you asking rhetorical questions," Tom asked off to the side.

"Well I am just making sure you don't change on me," she said putting her hand in Tom's hair. "I've grown fond of you little weirdos."

"Just take us to our spots, Penny," he said while removing her hand from his head.

"Sure thing, genius," she said before leading them to their seats with two menus in her arms.

As they were led to their spots, Mark could not help but think about how they first met the twenty-something blonde woman. At first they were just like any other regular customer that wandered through the doors of Egg Harbor Café. Eventually after eating there so often, they got use to each other and were on a first name basis. They knew Penny was only working there until she could pay of her student loans from college but she was a breath of fresh air amongst the rest of their week. She had a way of livening up a hard week of testing and tragically long homework assignments.

Placing the menus in front of them as they sat down, she asked, "You guys need a minute or do you already know what you want?"

"I'll have the Barrington Benedict with some hot tea," Tom stated as he handed over his menu.

"And for you, four eyes," she teasingly asked Mark.

"I'll just have the traditional with scrambled eggs, bacon, and water," he sighed in defeat.

"I'll have your drinks ready in a sec," she said walking away to place their orders.

After she was out of earshot, Tom turned to him and said, "If I didn't know any better, I would think you like her morning banter."

"Look who's talking," Mark snidely remarked.

Tom started chuckling to himself at their conversation before growing silent. Penny dropped of their drinks before attending to her other customers. It was still too early for the churchgoers to arrive and start packing the place. Tom wasn't very fond of sharing the place to large numbers of people but would wait in the filled restaurant just to get his food. A smile made its way onto Mark's face as he continued to stare off into nothing while sipping on his water.

Their meals arrived with a warm smile and a wink from Penny. With all the manners he could muster, Mark feverishly dug into his breakfast. Although it was quite simple compared to the other things on the menu, Mark thoroughly savored how each bite of eggs and bacon warmed him to his core. Letting out a shudder of content, he cast a glance over at Tom as he enjoyed his meal at a different pace. Instead of tearing into poached egg inside English muffins like a starved hyena, he took slow bites out of the delightful dish between calm sips from his warm tea. This made Mark a little self-conscious about his eating habit and began eating a little more like his friend. As he gently placed a fork full of eggs into his mouth, he could have sworn he caught a smirk out of the corner of his eye.

Eventually, the two had finished their meals and were just about finished with their drinks. They were fully satisfied with their brunch but they wanted to enjoy the moment a little while longer. Not every morning could be as good as this one, but they could enjoy it before they were taunted by the other kids their age. Why they were mocked by other kids for going to brunch, Mark could not figure out.

The time came when they had to leave right before the brunch rush arrived. After tipping Penny for her consistent hospitality, they gave her a wave before exiting the restaurant. Stepping out into the cold, they noticed the temperature rose a little bit while they were inside. With the sun disappearing behind some clouds, the two decided to go back to an old warehouse they found back when they first met.

Mark was quite fond of the day he first met the shorter kid, for that was when he truly had a friend. Back then, Mark's mother sent him to a private school an hour away from his home in Chicago due to his ADHD and dyslexia getting him in some trouble at other schools in the city. She didn't want him to be teased for his learning disabilities at a public school so see sent him to a private school, pouring as much money into his education as she could while sustaining her auto shop business.

Being so far from home, he couldn't help being homesick and wanted frequently to return home so he could spend time with his mother working on cars. She always needed help working around the shop and figured he could help her instead of attending school like she wanted. Despite the warm sentiment behind his eagerness to fix cars alongside her, she knew he needed to spread his wings a little more. Looking back, he was thankful his mother wanted him to develop some freedom in his choices.

While attending elementary school, he met Tom one day just sitting at a desk with a solemn look in his eyes. He did not understand what the problem was so he introduced himself to the tired boy only to be greeted by sad eyes and silence. Seeing that he was under the weather, Mark had the sudden urge to fix the problem. After a couple minutes of suggestions, he managed to convince him to follow him to a warehouse the boy discovered while wandering around the area. How he convinced a total stranger to follow into a hidden warehouse, Mark still couldn't figure.

Said warehouse stood before them in the depths of a forest nearby. The two teens observed the broken windows and rusted metal exterior before entering, the interior clear of debris from so many visits from the duo. Only the hundreds of boxes littered the center of the room as rays of light entered through the shattered windows. Memories of making box forts flooded Mark's mind as they wandered further into the building. He smiled at the dozens of fond memories the two had there during the school years, from screwing around with a forklift that always seemed to have energy without any gasoline, to getting splinters inside their hands for not wearing gloves while moving the boxes.

Sitting on top of their latest and greatest creation, Fort Kickass, the two scanned the interior of the building. One section of the roof still had a hole in it that they would have to repair later on. Some more glass shards were scattered on the cement floor, probably from other kids with rocks. Although this was their favorite spot to go to, it was no secret that the two wandered into the area when school was not in session. Some of their classmates would always insinuate that the two were doing something wrong but Mark didn't see any problem with building box forts.

Lying back, he stared up at the ceiling, deep in thought. After a while he openly asked, "What do you think we'll be doing in the future, Tom?"

"I would guess some sort of horrible lesson at school, Mark."

"I don't mean tomorrow," Mark scoffed. "I am talking about after high school future."

Tom visibly tensed up at this, "I have no clue."

"My mom says I should be thinking about what I want to do after high school," he said. "She keeps reminding me that these days will fly by fast. She is also really urging that I attend college after graduation."

Silence filled the air as they remained on their wooden fort. Tom didn't make a sound so Mark decided to drown out the silence by continuing on. "I'm considering going to college in Chicago, maybe earn a degree in mechanical engineering. I know you're not that fond of Project Lead the Way but I think it can take me places, you know?"

"Yeah," Tom sighed.

"So what do you think you are going to do," Mark inquired.

Silence floated between the two as Mark stared at his friend's distant look. He could tell he was deep in thought as his eyes remained fixated on a rusted spot on the wall. Tom's leg began to bounce up and down as it dangled over the side of their fort, his own ADHD acting up from staying still for too long. Mark could see that his question was very difficult to answer at the present moment.

He was about to apologize but Tom responded, "I honestly have no clue. Everything I have tried doesn't really interest me that much. Guitar and art are pretty fun but you can't really make a livable career out of that. With my track record, I do not really think I can get into a good university. I am sure there is something out there for me but I can't see what that is from where I'm at this present moment."

Mark sat up and placed his hand on Tom's shoulder. "That's alright, Tom. You don't have to make a decision just yet."

Tom shrugged off Mark's hand as he stood up from his spot at the edge of the fort. After standing, he bought himself a couple seconds of quiet by stretching out his back. His spine audibly popped as he leaned back and forth, rotating from side to side. Mark knew he wasn't trying to be rude by pushing away his reassurance, but he wouldn't be lying if he said that it made him a little uneasy for his friend's blatant disregard for his support.

"I think it's time we get back to the academy," Tom stated with his arm outstretched to Mark. He recognized the change in behavior and decided to go along with it. Mark's hand went past Tom's hand and firmly grasped his forearm and pulled him up with his friend's assistance.

"If we don't get back in time, Mr. Lubbock is going to throw a fit," Tom said as he slowly descended the large structure.

"When did you suddenly start caring for being on time," Mark questioned.

"It's not a matter of being on time," Tom replied. "I just prefer not receiving an earful from that old coot."

The two chuckled as they exited the fort and warehouse, thinking about what they would get chastised if they were found roaming without supervision. After getting a few meters away from the building, Mark was met with a sudden chill. As he turned back to the warehouse, he suddenly felt that he was leaving his safe place for the last time and would not see the building for some time. He didn't know where this uneasiness came from and tried to think about its origin as he stared at the familiar building. Unfortunately, he forgot that he had more important things to worry about.

"Mark, I'm going to leave you here if you don't start picking up the pace," Tom shouted over his shoulder in the distance.

Noticing his friend already a significant distance away from him, Mark threw a final glance at the childhood hideaway before jogging to catch up with Tom. Whatever caused the sudden lapse of concern could wait until they got back to their dorm room.

* * *

The duo soon arrived at the academy. The wooded area added to the beauty as it encompassed the academy. The lingering scent of pine trees drifted through the air as the birds chirped from within the trees. The sun was setting slowly against the tree line, the air beginning to chill slowly. In a matter of hours, the temperature would dip below the freezing point yet again.

After receiving a thorough lecture on why they cannot just wander around town without a chaperone, courtesy of Mr. Lubbock, the duo finally returned to their dorm with a sigh of relief. The dorm itself was not complex, consisting of two twin sized beds, white walls, a small desk pushed in front of their double pane window. A mini refrigerator sat beneath the desk closer to Tom's side of the room despite the fact it belonged to Mark.

Sitting on their respective beds, the two began digging through their backpacks in search of their weekend assignments. Mark pulled out his English reading packet before producing his novel from the depths of his backpack. He flipped through the hardcover version of Frankenstein until he reached his bookmark. Removing his bookmark from between the pages, his eyes began to scan the small font as he read silently. Upon going a handful of lines into the story, the words on the pages began to shift places, making it frustratingly difficult to comprehend the piece of literature.

The opening of a carbonate beverage caught his attention, pulling him away from his growing displeasure. Tom sat opposite of him, drinking a Coca Cola while holding one out towards his roommate. He promptly took the offering, grasping the chilled aluminum in his hands and stared at it before taking a swig. As the sweet caramel flavor danced across his tongue, he remembered about how his friend saw the drink as a stress reliever. Mark did not know the reasoning behind the concept but he thought it was nice of him to offer one from his secret stash.

"You do realize you have that on audiobook right," Tom teased from his side of the room.

A prolonged moment of silence stretched between the two as they lounged around. The realization caused Mark to suddenly scream profanity within the recesses of his mind. He reached for his pillow and sent it sailing towards Tom's face. Without looking over, Tom moved his drink away from his face as the plush object collided with his face. A muffled round of chuckling echoed from under the pillow as Tom slowly removed it from his face.

Mark's attention was drawn away from his friend as he glanced at the clock hanging over the door frame. The device read six o'clock, meaning that it was past dinner time over at the cafeteria. He was a little distraught that they missed out on a warm meal but remembered that they still had some pizza leftover from their Saturday movie night. Before he could turn to open up the fridge, Tom was already handing him a cold slice of pepperoni pizza.

"You always know what I'm thinking don't you," Mark said as he accepted the paper plate from his friend.

"Simple mind, I guess," he mused.

"Shut up."

The two enjoyed their meal in peace as the ticking of the clock continued on. Before long, they finished off the remaining pieces of Italian cuisine and began cleaning up. They folded the cardboard pizza box in half so it would fit into their wastebasket near the door. Mark then started gathering his toiletries for his shower in a few minutes when his eyes panned over to his friend. Tom remained on his bed with his legs kicked up and arms crossed behind his head.

"Aren't you going to come get a shower," Mark asked with his clothes hanging from one of his arms.

Tom's eye lolled open before stating, "I prefer to take my showers in the morning, dude."

"I forgot, sorry."

"No harm done," Tom said as he closed his eye again. "Just remember to take the trash out with you."

"Alright," Mark responded as he walked to the door. With his clothes in one arm and trash bag in the other, he turned the brass door knob. As he vacated the room, he turned to his friend and said, "I'll return in a few minutes."

Tom gave him a thumb up before he shut the door, closing the gap between the two. Mark could not help the sigh from leaving his lips as he walked towards the showers at the end of the hall. He silently padded down the white tiled hallway, the lights shined against the clean floor as he tossed the small trash bag into a larger container. Opening the door to the men's restroom, Mark entered the room lined with shower stalls to find the room empty of other students. Without much thought, he entered a stall in the corner and placed his clothes on a bench before closing the curtain.

He turned one of the shower knobs and waited for the water to heat up before he started washing up. Once he felt that the temperature was just right, his mind drifted to his friend while he got his hair wet. Normally he hated leaving Tom alone, even if it was for a few minutes. There was this gnawing feeling that doing that he would do something rash without him to prevent him from doing anything he might regret. Practically everyone at the academy disliked Tom and made it blatantly obvious that his presence was not desired. Openly he showed complete indifference towards their displeasure but Mark never asked him if he was truly alright.

Knowing that almost anyone could get into their room, Mark quickly finished scrubbing out the dirt from the morning. He dried himself off and clothed himself before exiting the shower stall. As he walked towards the door, other male students started pouring in with showering on their minds. They pushed past Mark, not paying much attention to him as they went towards the showers. He left the shower room and reached his room in a matter of minutes but found it without his friend resting on his bed.

Mark's eyes drifted over to the open window with the screen popped out and resting against the desk. The cold air drifted into the room, causing a shiver to roll down Mark's back. Another thing with Tom that Mark could not quite understand was his resistance to the cold. Whenever the temperatures dropped and others would don another layer of warm clothing, Tom would just shrug as if the weather was nothing to him. Mark thought his friend was a little eccentric at times but the cold was where he drew the line.

After placing his clothes into a laundry hamper and his toiletries underneath his bed, Mark flicked the light off. Light from the moon filtered through the window as Mark crawled into bed. With his back to the window, he pulled the blankets closer to his body in an attempt to retain some of the heat lost to the open window. Once he finished wrapping himself in blankets in a way that kept his torso and feet warm, he let out a content sigh.

Tom soon returned from his venture onto the roof, quietly swinging into the room. The window screen was placed back into position before Tom closed it completely. Mark's mind began to shift in thought to his friend's plan for Thanksgiving break as Tom slid into his covers. Typically during the holidays, he would cut communication from Mark entirely until returning to their dorm the night before school resumed. He contemplated whether or not he should invite him to his apartment in Chicago for the holiday. As he drifted off to sleep, he was almost certain his mother would enjoy finally meeting his friend after so long.

* * *

So maybe I didn't update this story as soon as possible and I can understand whoever reads this might be a little off put by my decision to move this story up four years. However I did this to get a better shot at using all the references I could possibly want. Starting off in 2008 forces me to find really obscure events from that year and I would much rather look back at a year that this generation would understand.

As always, you will hear from me in the next chapter, which should be posted in within the hour. Bye bye!


	2. Initiation

Chapter II

Disclaimer: I do not own PJO. That rightfully belongs to Rick Riordan. Any events and similarities are merely coincidence as this piece is only used for entertainment.

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"It is in our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light" – Aristotle Onassis

* * *

Mark was not entirely fond of dreaming as they always seemed to confuse him. From a young age, falling asleep proved to be the most complex thing for him to deal with. Dreams shifted in spontaneous and fluid ways that he could not connect thanks to the inconsistent nature of his subconsciousness. As he grew, they remained as intricate as before but they had a better chance of occupying his mind as he kept daydreaming when he should have been paying more attention to tropes in English.

This particular dream started off just as irritatingly confusing as the last batch but it screamed some sort of dire message that he needed to listen to. He was greeted by the sight of an ocean, lazily sending waves to wear away at the sand. If it weren't for the stormy clouds closing in on his area, he would have been tempted to go out for a swim. Within seconds, the waves frothed and furiously pounded away at the shore as lightning connected with the water's surface.

As if to make matters worse, a large black horse with a gorgeous black mane reared back on it's hind legs, braying in displeasure. Mark knew from the distance between him and the horse that it would easily tower over him had it been closer. The creature started stomping at the ground in front of it as if warning him from getting any closer. It was at that moment that Mark noticed its eyes were not fixated on him, but rather something behind him.

A loud screech pierced the air with the same intensity as the booming of thunder. This sudden burst of sound cause Mark to flinch as he whirled around to find the source. There, flying high in the sky with rain dancing off its wings, was an enormous eagle. Its brown feathers ruffled in gusts of wind as it circled in the air the same distance from Mark as the horse. Even from his spot, the yellow of the bird's beak shone brightly against the storm clouds in the background.

Without warning, the eagle let out an ear shattering screech before entering a dive. The sound of the horse galloping towards Mark caused him to turn away from the descending bird. The animals cried out in anger as they charged towards one another with the wind picking up and the water churning to match their emotions. Mark didn't know why but he felt an urgency from deep within him to stop the two before they met. Unfortunately, the sand liquefied around his ankles, locking him in place without anyway of escaping. He was forced to watch as the two met each other in combat.

Claws and hooves met each other, waves building in height and lightning increasing as if the ocean and skies were at war. With each blow, the weather's intensity multiplied; mirroring the warring beasts to a tee. A shout wanted to escape Mark's lips as talons cut the horse's neck and hooves collided with the eagle's wings, but he felt as though some oppressive force prevented him from making a single word. Before he could realise what was happening, the earth split beneath him with a great tremor. As he fell deeper into the darkness, his ears were assaulted by dark laughter before his eyes could see nothing but black.

With a couple of blinks from his eyes, Mark realized he was in an entirely new area. Cold nipped away at his exposed skin as he stood in a couple inches of snow. A crisp gust of wind brushed the tops of the pine trees towering over his head. Despite the coverage of the trees above, the light of a full moon danced across the snowy surface. His breath frosted his glasses so much that he had to wipe away the moisture to see.

After removing the condensation, a blur of movement in the distance caught his eyes. A human like shadow twirled between trunks of trees too far for him to see very well. As he squinted at the now still figure the howl of a wolf startled him. The howl started out as one but grew into a crescendo of howls within seconds. The figure darted out of view as the crunching of snow got closer to him. Wolves raced past him as if he was never there in the first place, chasing after the frightened individual. He would have followed if a large object didn't collide with his back, sending him face first into the cold.

At this point, Mark would have been really appreciative if he woke up but his dream had over plans for him. Instead of the cool but comfortable feeling of his bed, Mark felt the warmth of an overhanging light. The musky air of the room reminded him of when his mother would close her shop up for the night. He let out a cough as he glanced around the dust covered room. Tools of different sizes lined the wall above a wooden workbench, different contraptions haphazardly tossed about the room with no sort of order.

A grunt behind him reached his ears, almost as if it were a running joke that things would appear at his back. His eyes scanned over his shoulder to see a man working underneath an old model Jeep, a rack holding the front axle off the ground as he worked. The man's barreled chest stuck out from beneath the old vehicle but the most striking feature about the man were his legs. While one of them was perfectly fine, the other one was nothing more than a leg strut.

Before Mark could think about the possibility that a car fell on his leg, the man extended his hand towards him and asked, "Could you stop staring and hand me that twenty-two millimeter wrench?"

The open wrench set laid next to the man's feet just out of his reach. This setting was pretty weird but it seemed very familiar to Mark as he looked at the tools. As he sifted through the different sizes, he handed the man a size that he did not look at. Out of worry, he turned to him to apologize but was stopped short by the man's reaction.

"Seven-eighths," he said in wonder. "I'm glad at least someone here understands the metric system."

Mark's mouth opened to retort but decided to remain quiet as to not seem rude. He couldn't tell why but this older man seemed to have a fountain of knowledge as he was the only person he had encountered in this dream. If anyone could tell him what was happening it was this man in mechanics attire.

Before he could ask any further the booming of thunder shook the building, dust slowly drifting to the floor. Mark glanced around to see some of the hanging tools swaying from the shaking. The lightning must have been relatively close for the energy of one strike to transfer into the movement of the tools. He was too enthralled by the shaking to notice the man rolling from under the car.

"Sorry to cut this short but it appears I have wasted enough time," the man said from behind him. "It's time for you to wake up."

And with that, Mark took in a sharp gasp for air as he shot upright in his bed. He sat there firmly gripping his sheets, trying to steady his breath while staring thousand yards away. His eyes finally landed on his hands trembling and covered in sweat from the images that flashed through his mind. _Why am I frightened by some little dream_ , he thought to himself. Unfortunately, his mind drew a blank as the dorm room opened up to reveal Tom with a wet towel hanging from his neck.

"It's about time you woke up," Tom said in a quiet tone. "Cafeteria opens in twenty minutes. If you don't want to get caught up in the breakfast rush, I suggest you get some clothes on."

Silence spread between the two as Tom walked over to his side of the room to gather his things. The sleeves to his undershirt poked out from underneath his red hoodie. The light shimmered against his damp head as he reached under his bed to retrieve his backpack. A grunt escaped his lips as he hefted the backpack onto his shoulders before turning to Mark. His small smile slid down his face into a frown of concern as Mark remained in his spot.

"You okay man," Tom asked. "You're not looking so hot."

"I'm alright, just a weird dream," Mark replied wiping the sweat off his brow.

Tom stood there observing Mark's face as if searching for any more details. As quickly as it came, Tom shrugged and started walking towards the door. Mark's the glimpse of a swaying object in the corner of his eye caught his attention. A calendar hanging by his bed was riddled with previous days crossed out, as if counting down to the next vacation. His eyes landed on what was written down for that Monday.

"Today is the beginning of the swimming unit for P.E., right," Mark called to his friend.

After hearing no response, Mark turned to see if Tom was still inside the room. Tom was about to exit the room but he just stood there with a hand on the doorknob.

"I forgot about that," Tom said with a tremble in his voice.

Before Mark could ask ,Tom had already pulled a pair of red swim shorts out of his dresser. Cramming the article of clothing into his backpack, Tom quickly made his way to the door.

"I'll wait out here while you change," he stated before closing the door.

Alone with his thoughts, Mark tried to make sense of his friend's reaction while he prepared for the day. Last week, their substitute P. E. teacher, Ms. Carter, announced that there would be a swimming unit starting that Monday. She notified her students to bring swim wear so they could begin without any sort of complications. A wave of chills down his spine at the thought of the substitute.

Mark got along with most of the instructors on campus, but Ms. Carter was one that he could go a day without seeing. She became the substitute teacher after their original teacher became extremely ill in September. A bubbly, blonde lady in her mid twenties that appeared to be straight out from college with a thing for swimming, taking over as head coach for the varsity girls swimming team. Nothing appeared to be frightening at first glance but that soon ended when she first laid eyes on the two.

Her once comforting eyes would soon morph into a malicious storm of blue after gazing at them, resembling that of a predator when it catches sight of prey. The way she spoke was no picnic either. Once words escaped from her lips, Tom would always complain about the air suddenly becoming harshly cold. While the two were very weary of the substitute, the rest of the school didn't seem concerned by her presence. If anything, they welcomed her as though she were an old family friend that left for a couple years. The fact Ms. Carter decided to do a swimming unit for her P.E. classes last minute without any questions from the school board, worried Tom to no end.

The duo did a vast amount of investigation into Ms. Carter when they had a lab inside the computer room. As far as they could tell she was not married, had no children, and no sort of family; very peculiar considering the fact she constantly talked about an older sibling whenever she was around other faculty. They had a running assumption that whoever got stuck with her would regret ever coming to the state of Illinois.

Not wanting to get in trouble with her, the Mark grabbed his swimming shorts and headed out the door to meet his friend leaning against the hallway. They quickly made their way to the cafeteria before the morning rush. The only problem with the morning, other than the annoying wake up calls involving slang greetings and birthday shout outs, was the morning breakfast rush. The school served breakfast to its hundreds of students in a buffet manner and if students arrived late, there would not be any good food left for them.

As they entered the cafeteria, their shoes squeaked against the waxed floor. The energy efficient light bulbs shined brightly above the clean, long tables. The windows sparkled as sunshine began to stretch into the room. Everything had gleamed with sanitation that only came from the school's custodians working overtime just to make the building presentable. Before the two could think of anything else, the smell of sizzling bacon wafted throughout the room.

After the pair followed their noses and grabbed some plates, the morning wake up rang out. It seemed someone in the office wanted to ruin the day by playing another one of "greatest hits of the year." Mark took notice to Tom openly glaring at the speakers with malice in his eyes. Whenever a song that Tom disliked was played, he had the sudden urge to strangle someone as evident from the last time someone played _Call Me Maybe_. Mark could already hear the cracking of Tom's plate so he thought it was a good idea to calm him down before it completely broke.

Tom didn't have to look at the hand to know that it was Mark's hand on his shoulder. Mark knew that he closed his eyes, mentally counting to 10. The counting was a recommended technique that the counselor suggested thanks to the previous incident involving bad songs over the speakers. Once he got to 10, his grip loosened on the plate, finally gazed at Mark from over his shoulder, gave him a nodded and shrugged off the hand.

Filling their plates with food, the two walked to the outside tables as students began to swarm the cafeteria for sustenance and warmth. Tom led Mark over to their usual quiet table located behind the cafeteria. Setting down their food, they started to eat as birds began to awaken from their night slumber, more of the sunshine being reflected off of the white ground through the cloud cover.

The sounds of students eating and talking echoed out of the cafeteria and into the surrounding area. The ringing of the next bell was all Tom could wish for, as apparent from the bouncing of his leg. Mark knew he did not want to be near any of the other students as most of the students found amusement in angering Tom. There was a fine line between teasing and harassment for him but people could not understand the difference between being ignored or having to take a trip to the hospital.

A few minutes passed and students began to go out into the quad area, filled with energy after finishing their warm meals. Some went to nearby tables to chat while some decided to play games in the snow covered grass. Others decided to walk around in the small rays of sunlight until the bell rang. Mark caught Tom glaring at the easiness of "the common rabble" as he took a sip of water. Mark could guess that he was just displeased at their rowdiness so early in the morning.

His thoughts were interrupted by a brown object zipping past their view, almost hitting Tom as it flew by. Tom snarled at the sound of laughter resounding from one of the nearby tables, an early sign that he was about to fight someone. Mark took a glance over at the other tables and noticed that a couple of upperclassmen from the football team sat around with smiles on their faces. The second string quarterback for the junior varsity team, Damien Walters, just so happened to be the one laughing with two of his linebackers and a couple of cheerleaders to complete the high school cliche. He couldn't understand why but every time the toned player spotted Tom he went out of his way to make his friend's day a living nightmare.

Mark began to worry about the chance of a fight occurring between the two so early in the week. Tom was quite gifted in getting away with certain things but the number of witnesses favored the bully in this case. Mark was about to tell his roommate to ignore it but found an empty seat. It didn't take long for him to spot Tom with his back to him squatting down to pick up the brand new football. He moved his head around as if to search for any witnesses. Mark wanted to stop him from making matters worse but couldn't speak up in time as the sound of leather tearing greeted him, hanging his head in recognition. Leather meeting the ground in front of the upperclassmen reached his ears before Tom returned to his seat.

"Why did you have to do that," Mark asked through his hand. "Why can't you go one day without doing something drastic?"

"I don't know what you are talking about," Tom said as he took a sip from his water.

As he sat down, he could hear the clacking of heels coming from the other table. Mark lifted his head to see who was walking over only for a blush to overtake his face. Striding over to them with a sway in her hips was Jessie Glazier, the junior head cheerleader. It wasn't a normal day that a girl as attractive as her would come to speak with them. Just seeing her walk was a mesmerizing sight, her curly blonde hair bouncing with each step she took.

Mark sat speechless as she sat on the table with her attention fixed on Tom. He, however, was in a cold state of mind as she put her finger under his chin to try and gain his attention.

"Hey there," she spoke softly. "I noticed that you broke something of my soon to be husband's property."

"Oh you're in love? Who is it this week," Tom questioned with venom in his veins.

Knowing this was going south fast, she began to unbutton her shirt slowly. "What can I do that will make you pay for a new football?"

Mark could not believe the sight before him. His friend had a girl, a very attractive girl, sitting in front of him ready to strip. His envy was very apparent, a blush spread across his face while breathing a little faster. Tom looked him in the eye and shook his head in disagreement.

Without looking at the girl, he said, "You can put more clothes on and get the hell off of my table."

She started to pout in a way that Mark found to be irresistible. "Aw," she whined coyly. "Not even a little squeeze or look at my panties?"

As she questioned him, she grabbed his hand and tried to put his hand on her breast. Before his hand could ever come in contact, Tom managed to jerk his hand out of her grasp. Undeterred by his actions, she spread her legs and placed them next to Tom's sides, successfully trapping him in place. As she lifted her skirt, Mark let out a quiet groan in surprise at her disregard for where she was. Tom on the other hand never torn his eyes away from her eyes, staring at her not entertained by her antics.

"You can try all of your little tricks on me but they won't work," he responded.

Her face scrunched up in annoyance upon hearing his remark. Seeing that her tactics failed, she got off of the table and strode back to her group with a huff. Mark let out a sigh of relief before loosening his collar from around his neck. Anymore time with her and he would need to splash some cold water on his face. Luckily they would have swimming in third period to take care of that.

Thinking that he finally got some peace and quiet, Tom decide to pull out a book and began to read. Mark wanted to get his attention to reprimand his actions with the football, but the noiseless moment was ruined once he noticed that Damien was walking over with his two goons on both sides, a scowl written across his face. Tom didn't choose to acknowledge them as he continued to read his book, indifferent to the fact he just antagonized one of the most popular kids in school.

The sound of approaching feet stopped a short distance away from the table. As he turned the page, Damien decided to beat around the bush as his goons stood behind the two.

"What's wrong," Damien questioned. "My girl not good enough for your high and mighty ass?"

Not taking his eyes away from his book he stated, "Well, your taste in girls is as poor as her choice to wear a cheer leading uniform in winter conditions. I, on the other hand, go for a more refined taste, something you repulsive imbeciles wouldn't comprehend even if you put all three of your brain cells together."

This only served to agitate Damien's buddies, something Mark noted that would not aid their escape from them. Lifting his hand, his muscle bound friends stopped their complaining. As he put his foot on the table seat, he leaned in closer to Tom. "Do you seriously know what I'm capable of," he asked lowly.

Closing his book, Tom remarked, "I don't think you want to take the chance of getting your pretty face broken."

As Tom and Mark tried to rise, they were held down by the guy's lackeys. A threat apparently didn't sit well with this guy. He was practically touching Tom's ear when he said, "It's not really friendly to destroy one's property."

"Neither is this," Tom retorted. With incredible speed, he grabbed the guy's head and slammed it into the table. Before his buddies could react, Tom and Mark elbowed their groins, sending them in a fit of winces as they fell to the ground. As they bent over in pain, the duo sent jabs to their jaws, directing their descent away from the table.

Without a word, Tom and Mark grabbed their things and began to walk away as Jessie tried to rush over to her "hubby". Mark knew they only had a matter of minutes before the incident was reported to the office and Tom was whisked away for questioning. They barely made it a couple of meters away from the scene when they heard a slap and screech from behind them. Mark turned to see the girl grabbing her face in pain, a red hand mark visible on her cheek as Damien tried to sit up.

Blood trickled out of his nose as he shouted, "Where the fuck are you going you son of a bitch?"

Mark's breath hitched upon hearing the worst possible thing he could think of. Noticing a murderous gleam in his eye, Mark could not stop a shiny object from whizzing past the guy's face. Mark's eyes widened as he figured out it was a knife that stuck to the table next to the poor sap. Damien began to shake as the knife was removed from the table with Tom staring down at him

"If you say one more thing about my mother," Tom whispered darkly, "then that table will not be the only thing that this knife sticks in, Damien."

Immediately after announcing this, the bell rang out across the campus. Students began to get out of their seats, unaware of what just happened. Tom swiftly turned away from Damien and his lackeys. Mark joined him after getting one more glance at the sod that insulted his friend in the worst way possible. The fright was still stuck on his face as his friends hoisted him up from the ground slowly. The fear slowly shifted to anger as he violently shook off their arms, stomping his way over to the administration building.

"Just one day," Mark mumbled under his breath. "Just one day I would like to not see him dragged off like a criminal in first period."

A cold breeze whisked its way up his spine, a series of shivers breaking him away from the morning monologue. Noticing his friend already entering their geometry class, he hurried over to join him inside the warm comfort of a monotonous class.

* * *

Time soon came to rear its ugly head as the bell rang, announcing the end of second period. Students began to pour from out of all the buildings on the school grounds, casually shooting the breeze with their fellow classmates. Most of the students went to the regular shaped buildings but a few went to the ice arena located on the east side of the campus, the guys entering their locker room while the girls went to theirs.

As the guys entered their locker room, Mark lagged behind a bit to talk with Tom a bit more. Just as expected, Tom was escorted from their first period by a police officer for questioning with the dean of students. Much to his relief, they did not find the knife on Tom's person or anywhere in the surrounding area of their path to first period.

"So what happened after that," Mark questioned.

"After they accepted the fact I did not have a knife on me," Tom began, "they threatened me with a suspension if any more of those events happened today."

"That's pretty lax of them."

"I know, right," Tom asked. "Normally they just threaten me about doing anything they deem inappropriate."

"I take it that Damien didn't take the results easily."

"You have no idea," Tom said mockingly. "The brat was so livid that he threatened that his father would sue the school for their poor judgement. He was then reminded that his previous actions could cause him to lose his chances of playing varsity next year."

"I bet that shut him up," Mark said chuckling.

"Definitely. The look on his face was priceless."

The duo laughed wholeheartedly as they slowly but surely walked into the bustling locker room. Lockers were opening and slamming shut as guys were yelling at the top of their lungs. Pushing past the vulgar teens, the pair arrived at their lockers. Mark quickly stripped away his clothes only to replace them with a pair of orange swim trunks. He turned to his best friend to find him in red swim shorts and his trademark hoodie.

Once they were finished changing into their swim shorts, the teenagers were instructed by one of the male teachers to walk out of the locker room. After exiting the locker room into the foyer of the athletic wing, the male teens caught sight of the females in windbreakers without shorts on. Some of the guys began to whistle at the girls as they joined them for role call. Those who were brave enough tried to look up the large jackets only to be swatted away by the girls' sandals. Mark couldn't help but wonder out of teenage curiosity what the females could be wearing underneath their various windbreakers.

Out of nowhere Mark heard a voice whispered from Tom's general direction. "Don't worry, Thomas. It's not so bad to have beautiful women around you."

The sudden words caused Tom to jump a few feet away from the speaker. Turning to the speaker, Mark realized it was one of Ms. Carter's student aides, Karen Sanders, a tall brunette girl with sea green eyes. She was a decent girl that would constantly try to flirt with the duo though Mark suspected she found more amusement in scaring Tom away than getting him flustered with her flirting. Mark didn't understand why Tom was so intent on avoiding her but he was certain he would get his answer sometime soon.

As if things couldn't get any worse, a voice echoed, "Alright, kids. Can I please have your attention?"

The bubbly tone caused Mark to shiver in fright. Turning slowly, he spotted Ms. Carter standing in front of her multitude of students. She was gazing out at the crowd until she locked onto the duo. She gave a small smirk as her eyes began to turn into miniature storms.

She turned back to her students and announced, "Now we are going over to the pool. To insure none of you wander off to do anything immature, you are to walk with another person."

Immediately, everybody started going into pairs. Some guys were "lucky" enough to get paired with a girl, others went with their friends. Mark knew this was one of Tom's many personal circles of Hell. He knew that no girl in her right mind would willingly be his partner. Mark was about to join his friend but was stopped when a pair of arms pulled him close.

His eyes met the sea greens of Karen, sparkling with mischief. "Mark I think it's about time you and I spend some time together," she said with a wink.

He audibly gulped, a blush heated up his cheeks as he tried to focus on anything other than the warmth of her body. His eyes locked onto Tom in his attempt to go unnoticed by the rest of the class. Before he could even take a step, Ms. Carter managed to sneak up on the poor teen. He turned to face Ms. Carter, smirking in success at catching him off guard yet again.

"Don't worry, Thomas, you get the privilege of walking with me," She said.

Mark felt a chill was sent down his spine after hearing her. _Oh but there is everything to worry about_ , he thought. Even from this distance, Mark could tell Tom was growing more uncomfortable as she pulled him closer. He tried to escape her grip but only caused her to pull him into breasts. This action made him look nauseated, something Mark could understand.

Without another word Ms. Carter started to walk towards the pool, dragging a sick looking Tom out of the building in the process. The other students were amused to say the least, making jokes, laughing, or pointing at Tom. Every student with the exception of Mark, he kept quiet as Karen held onto his arm as if it were her favorite thing to do.

"What's wrong with Thomas," Karen asked.

Mark turned to her, her eyes locked on the struggling figure of Tom. "I'm not sure, Karen. Maybe he just doesn't like her."

"I don't see how that's possible," she said. "Everyone thinks she's a delight."

"Yeah…,"Mark trailed off.

It wasn't long before the class entered the indoor pool, black and orange streamers hanging above the pool itself. Light and the muffled sound of weights being lifted in the upstairs wellness center greeted Mark's ears as his eyes took in the environment. The scent of chlorine wafted through the air, one that Mark wasn't openly opposed to but wasn't fond of smelling over extended periods of time. If he were really honest, the beach in his dream made him a little weary of going anywhere near water but he eased off the restlessness from the previous night with water gently splashing against the walls of the pool.

"Alright class," Ms. Carter said turning to the class with Tom still struggling to get away from her grip. "Get those jackets off and start stretching before you get into the pool. I do not want to drag one of you out just because of a cramp in your leg."

The boys moved over to one side of the pool while the girls made their way to the opposite length. Each side shed their jackets, exposing their skin to the the cool air of the room and the eyes of their classmates. From what Mark could tell, each side would cast a glance over at the other, admiring the physiques of their peers. Some of the guys, the more athletically inclined, captured the attention of the girls. On the other hand, a majority of the girls gained attention for their variety of swimwear, from different patterns and designs to sizes and levels of skin exposure. If he wasn't mistaken, some of the girls were admiring the size of his now exposed biceps, though he could not figure out for the life of him why.

"What's the meaning of this, Mr. William," Ms. Carter said in an irked tone.

Mark turned to finally notice that Tom was the only student standing alone. All eyes were on the outcast as he stood in a black long sleeve compression shirt away from the other students. The fact that he was staring down Ms. Carter with his arms crossed defiantly with a glare did not help his situation.

"My doctor says I cannot expose any of my skin to sources of light," he firmly stated.

"Can't or won't," she questioned.

"Pick one."

"Alright," she said in a dangerously kind tone. "If you won't take off that ridiculous shirt, then you will be the first one to go into the pool."

At that Mark noticed a sudden twitch in Tom's leg, assuming it was his ADHD acting up again. His friend took a glance over at the water as the other students began to whisper among themselves. Tom's eyes squinted at the murmuring classmates, quieting them with just a look. His muscles tensed as his gaze returned to the source of his current pain.

"And if I refuse?"

"Then I will have Officer Hernandez haul you back up to the dean's office for defiance," she stated with a smirk.

Laughter echoed throughout the room as the class observed with amusement at this spectacle. Only Mark managed to notice the shifting of something under Tom's shirt.

"Whatever you say, _Sandra_ ," Tom said as he turned to the pools edge.

All chatter ceased as Tom stood by one of the white starting platforms, looking into the water's depths. Silence took hold of the room with an iron grip as the class stared at the lone, almost statuesque, teen. Before Ms. Carter could yell at him for stalling, Tom dived into the water, his entry disturbing the water's surface. The moment he got into the water, he was already racing towards to opposite end with strokes and kicks propelling him through the water. It didn't take him long before he reached the other side, his arms grasping the wall of the pool while he caught his breath.

"See," Ms. Carter said smugly. "Was that so hard?"

"As hard as you to find a boyfriend," Mark heard him whisper under his breath.

"What was that?"

"I'm already in the water. What more could you possibly want," he shouted from across the room.

"I'm glad you asked," she said before turning to the rest of the class. "Everyone, follow your classmate's example. Get in the pool while I put on some music."

With that, the students began to ease themselves into the water. Some shivered from the water sapping away at their heat while others decided to jump in with glee. Mark stood back a bit to find a good place to put his stuff before he got in. As he was about to enter the water, he finally noticed Tom with more clarity now that everyone was not obstructing his view. His friend's knuckles were snow white and the ripples around his body suggested he was shivering as he clung to the side. Something about this was clearly wrong and Mark felt a sudden need to check up on his friend's well being.

He had set his glasses down on top of his jacket by the wall and was about to walk over to Tom but was hit by a sudden force from the side. His body went flying into the water with whatever subsequently knocked the air out of him. The rushing of water went into his ears and nose causing him to frantically swim for the surface. Upon breaking the surface, he gasped for air and hacked from water getting up his nose.

He looked around to find out who thought it was a great idea to tackle him into the pool. It didn't take long for him to spot the light figure rising to the surface not far from him. Water splashed at his face, causing him to turn away out of instinct. When he turned back, his eyes widened at the sight before him.

"What's wrong, Ford," Karen said coyly. "Cat got your tongue?"

"No, I uh… just assumed you would wear your other swimsuit," he said trying desperately to not stare.

Karen glanced down at her attire, a sea green two piece that showed off developing assets. Mark knew she was a few years older than him, two if he wasn't mistaken, but he could barely keep himself from staring. He never got to see much of the opposite gender so this was a real eye opener for him.

"I only wear that for competitions," she stated.

"Oh…"

"Besides," she cut him off. "That thing is much too suffocating for me, if you catch my drift."

Feeling warmth spread to his cheeks, Mark only meekly nodded in acknowledgement. The wild gleam in her eyes excited him to no end. What he wouldn't give if he could actually speak to her like a normal person.

A strangely soothing melody greeted his ears, loosening the tension in his shoulders. If he had to guess, Ms. Carter's finally got the old music player working. Her choice of music was quite surprising considering her general presence. He was expecting an unpleasant pop song that Tom would inevitably curse the heavens for its creation.

 _Speak of the devi_ l, Mark thought to himself hearing her approaching the side of the pool. The second he turned to their instructor, he couldn't help but feel captivated by her form. The whistling and hollering of approval from the class did not do justice on Ms. Carter's enchanting body. Being an athletic woman straight out of college, she was already considered attractive. Her smooth and creamy legs, void of any imperfections, went on for miles. Her curves laid in just the right places, softly moving with each step she took on her stroll to the edge of the pool. It was at that moment that Mark began apologizing in his mind for all the times he thought of her as a pain.

"Alright class," she said moving her ponytail off her shoulder. "Today we are going to go over some essential swimming techniques. Now get back together with your partner so we can get this started."

Two familiar arms wrapped around his torso, pulling him in close. His back was greeted by the soft fabric of a bikini pressing against him as a weight rested on his shoulder. His muscles tensed up as a delicate giggle caressed his ear in a way he could not explain.

"Looks like you're stuck with me again," she said slowly. "Though I don't think you're complaining."

A shiver went down Mark's back as he tried to distract himself from her silky skin rubbing against him. His eyes wandered around the room trying to prevent him from doing anything less than awkward. For the life of him talking to this girl, an older and very attractive one much less, seemed like an impossible task. If he could, he might as well put getting tongue tied around girls as a specialty on a resume.

"Now that we are all paired up, we are going to start off with basic floating techniques," Ms. Carter said.

If he was really honest, Mark wasn't paying much attention to what she was saying. After a couple of words his mind just kinda went blank from watching her demonstration. His eyes were much too busy feasting on the spectacle before him to pay much attention. His senses were so stimulated, between the pretty girl holding onto him, the now very attractive older woman floating a few meters away, and the relaxing music lulling him into a daze, he dismissed the sudden shift in Ms. Carter's appearance as a hallucination.

"Does everyone understand," Ms. Carter asked looking around the room.

Snapping out of his stupor, he dumbly nodded his head with the majority of the male students.

"Good, now you try it."

He turned to Karen with a nervous smile and said, "What is it that we are doing?"

A giggle that made his heart skip a beat reached his ears as she looked at him. "Typical," she said wistfully. "I'll show you."

She grabbed onto his biceps and tugged them out. "Spread your arms for me."

He did as he was told, silently enjoying the feeling of her hands roaming down to his legs. "Now relax," she said with a hint of something he could not discern.

His legs relaxed and her hand grazed down his thigh before cupping the upper part of his calf. Slowly she lifted his legs towards the surface, a smile present under her half lidded eyes.

"Now just take deep breaths and stare at the ceiling," she said dancing with the water over to his head.

While he was told to look up at the ceiling, his eyes found something much better to stare at. Mark was tall by his own standards but Karen had a few inches in on him. The fact she was standing on the slope of the pool above him did not help matters either. If there was a heaven, then Mark had definitely found it laying before his very eyes.

"I don't know why you were so nervous, you're doing great," she said looking down at him with a smile on her face.

"Yeah… great…" Mark trailed off with a chuckle.

She giggled before saying, "You're pretty cute, Ford. You certain you aren't taken?"

Now that certainly caught him off guard. His face grew warmer as he tried to look away from the girl now hovering a few inches away from him.

"I don't think now is the best time. What if Ms. Carter – "

"I'm sure she won't mind," she said as her hands cupped his cheeks.

"But –"

"She's busy with the other students," she whispered. "Just a little taste, Mark. A little taste never hurt anyone."

His mind was slipping into a daze, solely focused on Karen. Her lips were a subtle pink glistening from the reflected light of the water's surface. They were so tantalizingly close that he could feel her breath hug his face in a warm embrace. Here was the chance of a lifetime for him, to finally experience something he never thought was possible. _A taste probably won't hurt_ , he thought as he reached another level of relaxation. His senses were slowly fading as her face got within inches of his, ignoring the flicker from a beaked monster back to her normal look.

Unfortunately his high was cut short by a red cylinder swinging up into her face, a squeal of pain escaping her lips as the object collided with his chest. Out of concern he tried to see if Karen was alright but the object wrapped around his torso and pulled him to the shallow end of the pool. Mark fought back frantically trying to get back to Karen once his feet touched the pool floor.

It was when he was pulled over to the steps by the shallows that the person dragging him away finally moved in front of him to get a better grip. While pushing him up the stairs, Mark caught his heel on the edge of a stair. He fell back completely unprepared to catch himself. As his body met with the floor his head made impact with a sickening thud. His vision faded in and out in a hazy mess as he laid there.

From what he could tell, the person pulling him away was none other than Tom. Throughout the entire situation, he forgot that he was even there to begin with. He then remembered that he was going to check if he was alright before Karen got his attention. What happened between then and now seemed like a mystery to him because he couldn't make any sense of him attacking their student aide. As his eyes locked on his friend through the haze, he saw why Tom was so desperate to get him away from her.

Still in the water, Tom was grappling with Ms. Carter though something was off about her. Her form constantly flickering between the hot, young teacher that the students had become attached to a beaked monster with feathers lining her sides. Each time he saw the dirty plumage appear him fear grew stronger. His arms limply tried to pull him away from the water's edge as the two continued to wrestle.

His futile attempt of escape were stopped by the sudden appearance of Karen's flickering form slowly crawling over him. As she drew closer Mark could see the gloss of her lips flicker to a disgusting grease color. The teasing sparkle was replaced with a predatory gleam of hunger staring at him like a smoking brisket cooked to perfection. He would have continued his desperate crawl towards some form of safety if she had not wrapped her clawed hands around his biceps.

"Calm down, Mark. Trust me, you have nothing to be afraid of," he faintly heard her say with a reassuring smile.

The smile did not help her as he saw her change between a beaked monster with frayed hair and a wrinkled neck to the upperclassmen he was familiar with. All this change in appearance shocked him to no end. Here he thought he finally understood her only to have her to do a complete U-turn with this new information. He thought his world was collapsing in on itself as the beaked monster leaned down towards his throat.

Before the creature could ever tear out his trachea, a red hand firmly gripped her shoulder. The creature struggled to close the gap, snapping at his throat in a frenzy. With a mighty heft, the monster sailed over the pool out of his sight. The bending of a metal equipment cabinet finally cleared up Mark's hearing after his nasty meeting with the floor.

"Fucking get up, Ford," Tom shouted in his ear as he pulled him up by the arm. "I doubt the beaked bitches are going to stay down long enough."

Mark shook his head to gain a little more clarity in his vision. The haze was disappearing but as sight returned he became a little more confused. The other students were huddling up in a corner of the pool staring fearfully at the duo as they stood up. From what he could hear they were quietly crying and whispering about Tom finally snapping.

"I knew that boy was crazy."

"I never thought he would hurt Ms. Carter."

"I hope that bastard gets locked up for this."

"Mark this is no time to lollygag," Tom said sternly as Mark finally got to his feet. "We need to go NOW!"

Without so much as another word Mark grabbed his glasses and jacket before meeting Tom at the door. From what Mark could tell, their commotion caught the attention of the class working out in the wellness center upstairs. Students stared awestruck at the scene below them as they watched the two freshmen disappear from sight.

Water dripped against the carpet floor of the ice rink foyer as two sprinted towards the boys' locker room. They crashed through the metal door with them frantically trying to maintain their balance as the adrenaline started to kick in.

"Get changed while I watch the door," Tom shouted over his shoulder as he hurried to shut the metal door.

Mark rushed over to his locker fumbling with his combination. His erratic breathing and shaking fingers only made the process even more difficult. Once his locker finally opened up, he tore off his shorts and replaced them with his attire from this morning. Though he was still wet from being inside the pool his mind was in overdrive to get away from the those monster.

Tom slid over to his locker and rapidly opened it. "I think that should hold them off for a while," he said with his back to Mark.

"What did you do?"

"I jammed the knife from earlier into the lock."

"Since when did you get that back," Mark asked.

"Now is not the time for that," Tom said replacing his shorts with his skinny jeans.

"You sure that is a good idea," Mark said eying his friend's choice of pants.

"I'm sorry, I left my bird people fighting pants back at the dorm!"

"It's just that – "

"Mark," Tom interrupted. "An hour ago life was so much less complicated. Since then now might not be the best time to lecture me on my sense of fashion!"

"But – "

"But nothing," he said slinging his backpack over his hoodie. "I doubt that door is going to hold so we need to – "

The sound of the metal door slamming into the concrete wall echoed throughout the room, notifying the two of the company they were about to receive. Lights began to flicker like a hallway in an abandoned asylum as the two stood like statues. The screeching of metal being scratched pierced the silence of the room as the two fearfully waited for the chance to sneak out.

"We know you're in here," a distorted version of Ms. Carter announced to the room. "There is only one exit to this room. You cannot escape from us, demigods. Give us what we want and we'll spare your pathetic lives."

Mark squinted over at Tom for answers only to be met with an irritated shrug. Neither of them knew what they were talking about or what they wanted so the best thing to do was stay quiet. Tom motioned for Mark to quietly follow, quickly crouching down at they tiptoed over to the end of the locker. They stopped before the opening of the room, Tom quickly taking a peek at their exit. He then began making some motions with his fingers though the only thing Mark could understand from it was that he was to stay put.

Without warning, Tom stepped out and said, "Howdy, Big Bird!"

Not a moment later a blur of dark feathers collided with Tom out of Mark's view. The soft thud of flesh on concrete met his ears as Mark leaned out to see where his friend went. To his fears he spotted Tom held against the wall by the once Ms. Carter monster. Her taloned hands wrapped around his throat as he tried to keep her large hawk like legs from tearing into his thighs.

"Tom," he shouted out in concern before a force from above hit his back, flattening him against the cold floor. He looked up to see the monster that was Karen standing on his back with her arms crossed and a smile stretching her curved beak. Her wings continued to flap dirt from the room into his eyes as she held him helplessly.

"This is a great look for you, demigod," she said as her pointed tongue licked one of her taloned fingers. "I might just keep you as a toy to play with."

"Give us the weapon and your friend won't get hurt," Ms. Carter said to Tom.

"I don't know what you're talking about, you clucker fuck," Tom shouted in defiance.

"Then this should refresh your mind," Karen said before slowly digging a hooked claw into Mark's arm.

He let out a yell as the pain dug into him further. It felt as if a doctor's needle grew in size upon piercing skin. He could feel the muscles in his arm tear as blood slowly pulled out of his opening. The claw exited his arm, allowing blood to flow more freely with a wince.

"Mark," Tom shouted over to his injured friend. The two locked eyes and Mark could see it. In his eyes were so many things he thought he would never see: fear, sadness, and desperation.

"The next one won't be so harmless," Karen said as her talons wrapped around Mark's throat.

"Now tell us where it is, demigod," Carter said with her hands tightening around Tom's throat.

Tom's face was a much more vibrant red than his usual color. Mark could tell the air was being cut off from his lungs just as he was at the moment. His vision started to blur as tears began to build up. Mark felt a warm tear streak across his face before it splashed onto the floor. _So this is how it ends_ , he thought. _Inside a boys' locker room to die at the hands of bird people_.

He closed his eyes in defeat, silently hoping that something would save them from their imminent demise. As if by some sign from the universe, the lights shut off, leaving them in total darkness. The soft padding of feet rushed into the room with the sound of thin metal bending under weight. Two sharp whistles cut through the air followed by the sound of two shrieks of pain. The grip around Mark's neck loosened as the padding of feet exited the building with the weight of his captor.

The lights came back on inside the room to reveal a new sight to him. No longer was his friend being choked by a human like bird but was instead clutching his throat as he began to regain his breath. Before them, the bird was crumpling to an ashy grey on the floor, shrinking in size. Now that he wasn't being held down, Mark could see that his captor was also dissipating into dust.

Mark sat up to look around, holding the stinging hole in his arm. His eyes finally focused on his friend as he quietly asked, "What the fuck just happened?"

Tom gulped before replying, "I don't know but we should take that as a sign to start leaving."

Shaking off some of the dust from his hoodie, he mustered as much courage he could before picking himself up. "Let's get out of here before more come."

"Where are we going?"

"First dorm and we can figure it out as we go," Tom said shakily as he closed his locker.

As Tom started walking away, Mark couldn't help but look back at the closest pile of dust. He noticed that something was sprouting out of the pile like a stick in a mud pile. Carefully he pulled it out to stare at the object in wonder. It was a bronze arrow with a barbed tip and intricate fletchings. He did not quite understand how something like this could turn a bird person into a pile of ash.

"Mark, get your shit and let's go," Tom shouted from the entrance.

"Alright," he shouted back as he buried the arrow inside his backpack. He figured that if they found the origin of the arrow, they would find out what the monsters wanted from them.

* * *

Thanks to whoever decided to read this. I spent quite a bit ironing this thing out this past few months.

Originally I was going to post this in July but I got caught up in preparing for Maine around early August and returning in September. Since I got back I started working with a friend so now I got somewhat of a beta reader but he leaves in a few days for San Diego. I already have the next few chapters outlined, it's just a matter of fleshing it out and see what works best.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed and maybe you'll see the next installment in the not too distant future. Enjoy the new year. Bye bye!


	3. Relocation

Compromised

Disclaimer: I do not own PJO. That rightfully belongs to Rick Riordan. Nor do I condone the use or distribution of illegal substances.

* * *

"Change is the law of life. And those who look only to the past or present are certain to miss the future." – John F. Kennedy

* * *

Mark's breath grew ragged as Tom rushed further into the soaked foliage surrounding the academy. His lungs ached from inhaling crisp air, despite being in relatively good shape. Had it been a day where things were less chaotic, Tom may have chastised him for always skipping leg day with him. Unfortunately, this was not an ordinary day for the poor guy.

As he slowed down, leaning on a tree attempting to find his breath, he recounted mentally what drove him to this current situation. Less than an hour ago he found out his gym teacher, and the assistant he was fawning over for the past few months, transformed into hideous abominations hellbent on killing them over something they had no clue about. Shortly afterwards, said monsters were somehow mysteriously turned to dust from some arrows, managed to snatch one up before Tom dragged him away from the hysterical classmates. Before they could even consider going back to their dorm to pick up some better clothes, police sirens forced them into the woods. Now feeling caught up to speed, he heaved a frustrated sigh still unable to comprehend what was going on.

"You alright, man," Tom called in a hushed tone.

"No, I'm not alright. None of this makes sense!"

"Keep your voice down," he hissed jogging over.

"What in the actual fuck was that?! Why did they attack us? What did they mean by 'trident'?"

"Look, we can't focus on that right now. We have the Lake Forest police on our tale, it's chilly out here, we're soaking wet, and we don't know what just happened. The only thing we can do right now is find help without getting caught by any police."

"How do we do that if the school knows what we wore today?"

As if answering his question, Tom cracked his knuckles before stripping off his hoodie, tossing it to him in the process.

"What are you doing," he inquired.

"Simple, changing our clothes. They'll be looking for people like you and me. If we alter our appearance slightly, they won't be able to ID us."

"That would help if I wore the same size clothes as you."

"Dude, I got baggy clothes for this very reason," Tom said looking at him like a father would while reading the newspaper. "Besides, that hoodie is reversible."

As if to prove his point Mark turned the inside out, turning the red hoodie into a grey version. Had he seen the grey side next to the red, he might have mistaken them for two separate styles.

"I still doubt this will fool the local PD," Mark said slipping the hoodie onto his torso.

"You have nothing to worry about…," he trailed off as began jogging off in another direction.

"Where are we even going?"

"Somewhere with warmth and food."

"So literally anywhere but here?"

"Except for… oh, name an African country."

On that cheery little comment, Mark sighed once more before picking up the pace. They continued jogging through the woods not knowing where they were going. Once or twice, they would get close to a road crouching or crawling towards it before deciding whether they wanted to cross it. At one point they both got scared by a police cruiser that screamed past with its lights flashing.

They made a beeline southeast for whatever reason Tom came up with until they got into the residential area. As cruisers continued to scope out the area around the academy, the duo started jumping fences to avoid detection. Luckily the police department did not call for a helicopter to spot them out, otherwise they would be surrounded by police officers. After cutting through dozens of yards, some containing friendly dogs and others not so much, a nature preserves, and a few church parking lots, Mark started realizing the area in which they were.

"Where is it that we are going?"

"We are going to get some water and hopefully some assistance in our next move."

"You don't think–"

"It's a risk I am willing to take, Ford."

"But we can't drag Penny into this mess!"

"Look, Ford," Tom said scanning the streets. "If she helps us, less of a chance the police will get on our tail. If not, we will risk moving either in public transportation or continue foot. Either way I don't think our troubles will stop if police get involved."

Mark closed his mouth as they approached Egg Harbor Café, keeping an eye out for any cruisers. Noticing there weren't any authorities in the area, the two entered the restaurant with the familiar warmth pushing past them. They smell of hash browns greeted the two as they were ushered over to the counter, the hostess unaware of whom she was interacting with. They sat in silence looking over the menu as they waited for Penny to pop into view.

"Are you certain she is working today," Mark asked.

"She always handles the breakfast shift before doing errands on Mondays."

"How do you know that?"

"Humans are creatures of habit."

"That doesn't answer my question."

Before he could get a proper answer out of his friend, Penny walked into view with a notepad in hand. "Morning, gentlemen. What can I get you today?"

"We'll have the Winter in Italy French Toast with water, cheese grits, and a friendly ear on the side," Tom said in a gruff voice.

"I'm sorry," Penny questioned lifting her eyes from the notepad.

Tom lowered the menu enough for his eyes to meet hers. Without a sound, Tom lifted a finger to his lips while mouthing, _Please help us_.

He was having second thoughts about coming to the café. Getting turned into the cops by someone he knew for what seemed like years only increased his uneasiness. Mark could only stare at the two as neither uttered a single word.

After a few painstakingly long minutes, she responded with, "Coming right up, gentlemen," before returning over to the kitchen to place their order.

Mark let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in, finally feeling some of the edge come off. His hands were still shaking a little though he blamed the cold weather rather than his nerves.

Two glasses arrived in front of the they with Penny asking quietly, "What happened with you guys? You've been all over the news for the past hour."

"What are you talking about?"

As if to emphasize her point, she motioned towards one of several television screens hanging from the ceiling. One just so happened to be on the local television channel, Channel 19 if he wasn't mistaken. Apparently, the news anchor was reporting on them seeing as how their photos were on screen with the words, "Teacher assaulted, students missing." Mark couldn't quite understand how they didn't include how their teacher turned into a bird person but that probably wasn't the only fish he had to fry.

"Quite frankly," Tom hushed. "Our substitute caught wind of us snooping around in her past. She might think we found something, tried to spin her actions at the academy as self defense by playing the gender card, and lock us up in the closest jail cell. Or she could be shifting the light over towards us to keep her probable criminal past from being revealed."

Mark stared at his friend as if he grew a second head. There was no possible way Penny was going to believe this improvised story about what was going on. Yet when he turned towards the waitress, he could only see shock in her eyes.

"So why come here when literally every officer in town is out looking for you two," she asked.

"We were hoping you could get us to Chicago when your shift ended."

Penny's eyes shifted between the two teens seated before her. "Are you serious?"

"We would not be asking you if it wasn't urgent. We have nobody here willing to help without getting the police involved."

Despite knowing fully well what was going on from the start, Mark didn't realize just how much was at stake. Had he gone to one of his other teachers, they would have immediately called the police just for him being with Tom. His other classmates would have stood by Mark but that would only throw Tom under the bus in the process. While he had no desire to get arrested there was no way he would abandon his friend.

Penny let out a sigh before responding. "You do realize I am risking just as much, if not more, as you two if I get pulled into this?"

"I promise we will find a way to compensate you for your aide," Tom said confidently.

"What could you two possibly offer that is worth this much trouble," she asked by calling their bluff.

"I happen to have connections with a director down in Los Angeles," Mark said without thinking.

Their attentions shifted to him upon hearing this. _Spotlight is on me now_ , he thought. _I can't back down now_.

"Really," Penny probed. "You know a director in Los Angeles?"

"Back in 2005," he continued. "A director for some superhero movie was in a rush start filming that his rental car broke down from overheating. Apparently, it was a last-minute rental that didn't have enough oil to function, so he ended up on the side of the road. He was about to call the film crew that they would have to reschedule the shoot when my mother happened to drive by with her tow truck-"

"Your mother has a tow truck," she interrupted.

"Yeah, she's one of the last auto shops in Chicago with one. So, she pulled up in front of him and offers him a lift to his destination. He asked if she could also fix the car up, so he wouldn't have to pay an arm and a leg when he returned it to the rental. Sure enough, by the end of the day she returns with the thing running like brand new. I'm not sure why but he gave her his card in the event she ever thought about working on stunt vehicles for some big-name movies."

"So how does this relate to me?"

"Once you're done helping us out, I can give you the guy's card. Maybe he can get you a couple auditions for some upcoming film out here."

Her blue eyes pierced his own, searching for some sign of weakness. Mark maintained confidence as she continued to silently judge his words and their worth. He hoped this plan would work, otherwise he'd be bunking with Tom behind bars.

She turned around to the kitchen window, their hopes slowly fading before his eyes. Before he could suggest they make a run for it, she returned with their hot meal and drinks. "My shift ends in a few minutes," she said over the clinking of silverware. "Once you're ready, meet me in the grey Toyota Camry parked towards the road."

As he was about to thank her, she turned away to serve another customer. Finally having that weight off his shoulder, Mark let out a sigh of relief. Instead of focusing on what their next plan would be, he shoveled French toast into his mouth and downed his cup of water.

"Any other day I would tell you to pace yourself," Tom said as he forked down cheese grits.

"I would prefer any other day over this one. Where can I see life's manager?"

"Don't know. Probably dealing with someone angered by the gift basket of lemons."

"You ever realize how much we rely on figures of speech?"

"I think maybe once last year but I can't remember when exactly."

"Think we should get going soon?"

"Not until after we finish this meal, it could be our last one for a while."

On that note, the duo continued eating their meals in silence. Mark noticed Penny leaving the restaurant though he focused a little more on the meal. He let the toast dance gently on his taste buds as he got caught up in the meal. Another one of the waitresses came by to drop off the bill while they got a refill on their water. Once they finished paying for their meal they walked to the parking lot in search of the car she described. After finding the running car, they entered back seats noting the number of tabloids scattered about.

"Sorry guys. If I knew I was driving people around, I would have cleaned up the back seat."

"It's alright. It beats public transportation by a huge margin."

Penny pulled out the parking lot onto the main road, making a few turns before getting onto the southbound side of the freeway. "Is there anywhere specific that I'm supposed to take you guys?"

"I didn't really think about that," Tom said. "Didn't think we would make it this far."

"Can't just stroll into the Windy City unarmed in broad daylight. With word about the incident and amount of police active daily, we are bound to get noticed. We need to get somewhere with contacts." He began to stroke his chin before turning to Mark. "Any ideas, Ford?"

Nothing came to mind at first, he didn't have any friends back in the city. Then he got a vague idea of what to do. _I don't like the idea of putting her at risk, but I know she will be able to help us_.

"Yes," he said before turning to Penny. "Do you know where West Rogers Park is at?"

* * *

The ride down to the city wasn't one full of conversation. For most of the drive, Penny listened to directions to Mark's apartment over her pop radio station. She didn't have too many questions for them, probably wanting to know as little as possible. He couldn't really blame her for it. Getting a criminal record for aiding wanted people was not something most people desired.

Tom remained quiet throughout the entire ride, staring out the window as they drove. He didn't have his usual angry outburst over the choice of music playing over the radio. Mark didn't know what could be eating away at his friend, but he felt it would be best that he not question it.

Mark tried to wrap his mind around how he would tell his mother about the situation he was knee deep in. He figured he couldn't lie to his mother about the academy since they probably already notified her about the situation. He couldn't also tell her about the monsters attacking them, she might just haul him off to the closest mental hospital if that happened. _Hey Mom, you know the friend I've told you about? Well he and I just got attacked by bird people and now we're labeled criminals._ That _certainly_ sounded like a logical story with no plot holes whatsoever.

He noticed a few landmarks as they drove further towards the city. A sign for the Wilmette Historical Museum popped up, causing Mark to reminisce. He could vaguely remember his mother taking him there once. He thought there was something important about the area, but the memory eluded him.

A few more minutes passed, and they turned onto a street all too familiar for him. He caught a glance at an apartment where he his childhood crush previously resided. He had fond memories of giving her candy whenever he got the chance to see her. If her parents didn't have to move to Georgia, he might have been able to at least kiss her. The nostalgia left once Penny pulled over to the side of the road.

"You've arrived at your destination, boys," Penny said looking in her rearview mirror. "Try to stay out of trouble for a while, alright?"

"We'll try," he said sincerely.

"Take care guys."

"You too."

Once they climbed out of the car, Penny turned around and headed back. Something told him that they would be able to see their favorite waitress sometime in the future.

"Are you certain this is your place, Mark?"

"Yeah, I've lived here my entire life."

"You're lucky to live in a place like this."

This peaked his interest. He looked at the four-story brick apartment trying to find what made this place so great. The building looked new despite being built roughly thirty years ago.

Before he could inquire further on his reasoning Tom looked around saying, "We should probably get inside before we either get seen or shot."

That said the two walked over to the intercom at the entrance. As Tom surveyed the area for any signs of trouble, Mark buzzed the button for his apartment. He waited a second, hoping that she was home and not busy at work.

"Who is it," a voice called out through the speaker.

"It's me," he said holding down the button.

A long pause held in the air before the front door unlocked without a response. Taking the invitation inside, Mark held it open for his friend and closing it shut. The lobby had some Thanksgiving decorations out for a friendlier atmosphere though they didn't pay much attention to it. Instead they rode the elevator up to the third floor, anxious about their next step to their plan.

The elevator doors opened to a carpeted hallway stretching in two directions with some painting littering the walls. Mark walked off to the right leading his friend to his apartment. They reached the end of the hallway where the number twenty-one hung on a door. His nerves were racing as he took a deep breath and turned the doorknob.

Before he could call out he was rushed into a warm hug, one he dearly needed after the events of the day. He returned the hug, not caring that they were on the run. Sadly, the moment had to end as the person pulled away to get a better look at him.

"What happened, Mark," the woman said in a frightened tone. "I got a call from the academy and the police department that you were involved in an assault at school and fled the scene. Please tell me this isn't true."

He could see his mother was worried about him from the look in her green eyes. Her brunette hair wasn't in the usual ponytail as her bangs hung over one of her eyes. She wasn't in her mechanic's uniform, so it must have been her day off, instead wearing an apron over her red sweatshirt and blue jeans.

"It's not entirely true, mom," he said quietly.

"Who's this," she asked looking over his shoulder.

"Mom, this is Tom, the friend I told you about," he stated before turning to his friend. "Tom, I'd this is my mother."

"Hello," Tom said with hoarsely.

"So, you're the friend I've heard so much about? Although it's nice to finally make your acquaintance, I still don't know why you two are here in the first place."

"Mom," Mark said. "You might want to sit down, it's a long story."

Once he got her to sit down on the couch Mark sat across from her in one of the recliners. He expected Tom to sit down with them, but he chose to stand next to the door. Instead, he observed the room from the hardwood floors to the car mechanic painting on the wall. Mark casted one more glance over to his friend before turning to his mother.

"What's this all about, Mark?"

"I need you to promise to her me out on this, Mom," he stated. "This story is beyond insane, and even though I witnessed it firsthand I still can't believe it happened."

She looked nervous from the look on her face, but she nodded in agreement. "Alright," he said. "I need to start from the beginning for any of this to make sense."

Thus, he recounted what happened that day from the start of school. She didn't like the idea of Mark's friend almost getting them in a fight from the start but calmed down after hearing he wasn't to blame for it. Once he got to the part where they were attacked by bird people she got deathly silent. Tom chimed in about getting him away from the monsters but gleamed over the fact that they almost died. From there Mark explained how they fled school and managed to hitch a ride all the way down to their present location.

His mother didn't respond for the longest time, staring at the floor in silence. Mark tried to get her attention but clammed up when she met his eyes. Tears were building in her eyes, the green taking up a mint green instead of the usual forest green. Her shoulders started shaking as she placed her head into her hands, letting out a soft cry. Mark got up and began consoling her though he guessed it was a reaction to his story. He sat there rubbing her back until the only thing he heard was the ticking of the clock hanging in the dining room.

"I hoped this wouldn't happen," she whispered.

"That what wouldn't happen," Mark asked.

"I knew this day would come," she continued standing up while wiping away the tears. "I just hoped I wouldn't have to do it until you went off to college."

"What are you talking about?"

She walked off deeper into the apartment, probably to her bedroom if he had to guess. He followed her to see her throwing clothes out of the closet onto her bed searching frantically. Before Mark could get her attention, she started unlocking the gun safe. She always kept a firearm in the apartment, but he didn't understand why she would need it now.

Instead of pulling out the pistol she had in the event of a break in, she pulled out a sheathed sword. He guessed the blade was roughly the length of his arm with a slight curve by looking at the indentation on the leather. The brown leather held the bronze metal firmly in place with a button strap over the handle. He had no idea how that would be of any help now, but she fumbled around with a pocket outside of the scabbard. From the pocket she produced a business card, though he didn't get a chance to look at it more closely.

"Mark hold this," she said handing him the sword.

"Mom, why do you have a sword," he asked nervously.

She did not respond as she searched for a phone. Hastily dialing numbers in she ushered him back to the living room where Tom eyed the sheathed blade warily. Mark shrugged to him, showing that he was just as confused as he was.

"Authentication coded: Theta Rho Delta," she said reading off the card. "Yes, I currently have two with me. One is mine and the other is his friend."

"Who are you talking to, Mom?"

Placing a hand over the speaker, she said, "Mark, I need you to get a bag of clothes ready. Get ready to leave in a few minutes."

" _Leave?_ We just got here!"

"Mark," she said urgently. "I need you to do what I say to get you to safety. It isn't safe for you, let alone both of you, to be here."

"Chicago has always been dangerous, Mom, but that hasn't stopped us from living here before!"

"Yes, they will be arriving later tonight. Can you meet them at the airport? Great, goodbye," she said before hanging the phone up.

"Where are you sending us, Mom," Mark asked anxiously.

"New York, it's the only safe place for you right now."

" _New York?_ Why can't we just stay here?"

"Well we're wanted criminals for one," Tom spoke up. "If I'd have to guess, the police will probably pick up on our trail within the forty-eight hours following the school incident."

"Not helping, Tom!"

"Just stating possibilities."

"Mark, there are forces at play that you don't yet understand," she said placing her hands on his shoulders. "You and Tom need to reach New York so you can be prepared for that. If you don't go now, both of you are in danger of another attack. I know that having you around would liven up this apartment, but I care more that my baby stays safe. Understand?"

Mark stared into her eyes for some sign she wasn't just playing with him, that this was all just some elaborate joke. He saw nothing but concern. The thought of leaving behind everything he's ever known frightened him. Nothing sounded better than staying in Chicago helping his mother out at the auto shop. He could live a normal life if he stayed, but he didn't know how long he would be able to do that. If what his mom said was true, he'd be putting her at risk as well.

"I understand."

He casted his eyes down at the floor as she kissed his forehead. "Don't worry too much about it, Mark. Once this all blows over, I'd be glad to have you attend another school closer to home."

With a nod, Mark handed the weapon over to Tom before heading to his room. Turning the doorknob, a wave of nostalgia washed over him as he stepped into the room. Old car magazines from his mother's work strewn across his desk where his old computer sat, the screen coated in a layer of dust. His eyes wiped across the sign poster of Randy Savage next to his window, remembering how hard his family tried to get it autographed for his seventh birthday.

Before he could be flooded by memories of flying his model plane and his half broken wind up toy robot, he reached into his closet to retrieve his small duffel bag. He opened his dresser and placed a couple pairs of clothes inside. With the bag packed, he walked to the door before stopping in the threshold. So many memories came to mind as he looked around. A solemn sigh escaped his lips as he slowly shut the door, meeting his mother and Tom by the door.

* * *

They managed to get into his mother's car without anyone noticing their presence. As they away from the curb, they spotted a police cruiser a couple of blocks behind them. Before they turned a corner, the cruiser occupied the space they vacated moments ago. As far as close calls got, that was the biggest one he witnessed in his life.

Mark's mother turned onto the southbound side of I-94, but continued driving south despite the airport being west of the apartments. Confused by this change of events, he decided to ask his mother about it.

"Mom, isn't O'Hare International west, not south?"

"Apparently Tom wanted to make a stop in Lawndale before you two get on your flight."

"Why are we stopping in Lawndale?"

"I have to do something before we start flying," Tom stated.

"What could you possibly need to do in one of the most dangerous part of the city?"

Tom glanced at him from the corner of his eye before turning back to the window. "I have to stop by my apartment."

"You live in Lawndale? Why didn't you ever tell me that?"

"It wasn't on the need to know basis."

Mark was about to ask further about the subject but stopped himself upon seeing Tom's reflection in the window. Judging from his scrunching eyebrows and muscles on his shoulder, he looked extremely tense. _It's probably best if I don't dig too deep_ , he thought as they sat in silence.

As they turned off the freeway, Mark observed just how bad the area was for the first time in his life. His mother always warned him about the area, telling him it was nothing but trouble. Judging from all the worn-down buildings, he guessed she was correct. Since they first exited the freeway, there wasn't much of a gap between seeing people around his age wandering the streets with their sagging pants.

Mark's mother turned onto a street before pulling up to an old brick apartment. It looked like a smaller version of his apartment, but the similarities ended there. A black metal fence stretched around the front of the two-story building. Instead of on a corner, the building was wedged between two other houses, leaving little room for a proper yard.

"I'll be back in a second, you two keep the car running," Tom said before stepping out of the vehicle.

Mark wanted to go with him, but he thought he shouldn't leave his mother alone in a neighborhood like this one. So, he sat there in the car with the window open just a crack. The second Tom entered the building yelling and screaming came from inside the apartment. It wasn't until the sound of breaking glass drew Mark out of the car charging towards the front door.

As if the day got progressively weirder, what he ran into felt like a dream he could not control. A pale woman no more than skin and bones sat on the ground clutching her head, blood seeping between her fingers. A little further inside was a disheveled man with wiry hair slowly got to his feet with a band wrapped around his bicep. A small dot of blood poked out of his forearm, something Mark had no desire inspecting further.

They started yelling incoherently at him, their voices slurred for some reason. Their red hued eyes bore holes into his skin as they spewed accusations at him. Every sound bounced around between his ears as he tried to figure out just what was going on.

"Let's go, Ford," Tom shouted from the top flight of stairs with a bag in hand. As he hurried down the stairs, the attention shifted to him instead of his friend.

"The _fuck_ you think you're going," the older man said cocking his fist back. Before he could clock Tom's lights out, he launched off the stairs into a drop kick aimed straight for the man's nose. A sickening crunch followed the contact between foot and face, sending the older man to the floor as Tom vaulted over the stair railings. The woman rushed over to her companion, screaming at the top of her lungs the second Tom unleashed a taser into her back without a shred of mercy. Without another word, Mark's arm was pulled out of the building back to the car, his eyes lingering on what he just walked into.

"Are you two alright," his mother asked as they piled back into the car.

"We'll be fine, but is it alright if I have my window partially open," Tom inquired as they pulled away from the sidewalk.

"Yes, but roll it up before we get on the freeway."

The car pulled back onto the main street system with Mark noticing Tom pull out a flip phone. He wasn't sure about why he managed to get one since he made a habit of only using electronics unless necessary. He could only imagine what could be so important that he start dialing numbers into a flip phone.

"Hello, DEA office," Tom asked into the speaker. "Yes, this is wanted criminal, Thomas Williams on the account of aggravated assault."

 _What the hell Thomas, we're supposed to be running from the law not casually calling them_ , he thought in confusion.

"Yes, I'm quite aware arresting me would be more along the local police department's jurisdiction, but I have information that would be quite useful for your operations in this district," Tom countered. "My foster parents are huge marijuana dealers in Chicago as they have been selling within the city for over a decade. I have a complete record of their dealings from the past five years in my dormitory. If you want to make a drug bust before the day is out, you can probably catch them sampling their product at their apartment in Lawndale."

A moment of silence stretched throughout the car as Tom listened intently to the call.

"I understand it won't help my situation now, but the other agencies will find enough substantial evidence in a week or so. Thank you for your time, goodbye."

After hanging up, Tom snapped the device in half before chucking them out the window. The broken tech landed in a trash can as they journeyed back onto the freeway with tension between the other members of the vehicle.

"You never told me your parents were drug dealers," Mark whispered.

"I also didn't tell you that I was adopted, but look where we are."

"Why didn't you at least tell me that?"

"If I had, you would have clung even more to me than usual, Mark. I didn't need nor desired to potentially jeopardize the evidence I compiled against my foster parents for some reassurance."

Mark turned away realizing that is exactly what he would do. Not even five minutes had passed considering the new information and he already wanted to ask what happened to his original family. Eventually he might have found out about the drug dealing and forced Tom to live more with him in a safer environment. He would have done everything in his power just to get him a better living situation.

"I understand you care for my safe being, but I can fix that mess myself," Tom reassured.

He nodded in acceptance, not having the energy to argue further with him. The day already took a toll on the two both physically and mentally, another break between all these events would be appreciated. _The second we get to our new location I'm taking a long hot shower_ , he thought adjusting his seatbelt.

After an hour of traffic on the freeway, the airport entered the car's view of sight. Airplanes leaving the landing strip still amazed him to this day. The roar of an engine passing overhead shook the car's window as they got closer to the entrance. Traffic grew more prevalent as they got closer to a parking garage, other drivers hustling towards the curb to drop off passengers. Parking the car, the three began walking towards the shuttle pickup.

Boarding the bus with travelers of different size and shape, they sat close together as the vehicle lurched away from the curb. This wasn't Mark's first rodeo, a memory of him and his mother visiting his uncle down in Louisiana for Christmas cruelly reminding him of a simpler time. Maybe if he were lucky he would be invited for the holidays once this whole thing blew over.

Their bus arrived at their airline departure area, walking out the exit with just some small bags on their person. Business people and casual travelers hurried back and forth as they searched for either the entrance or some transportation outside. As the three entered the lobby, Mark spotted the front desk for an airline.

"Boys I need you to wait here while I purchase your tickets," his mother said.

"Don't worry, we aren't going anywhere," Tom said producing two crisp hundred-dollar bills.

"Don't draw unwanted attention," she retorted reluctantly taking the money over to wait in line.

They decided to sit down while she obtained the tickets, observing their surroundings to pass the time. Mark scanned the area for any police officers, luckily only seeing ordinary people walking around with luggage. Some were busy on their phones, checking the departure times, or keeping a tight watch on their kids. A small part of him was weary of anybody around them being another set of monsters waiting for the right moment to serve them up like a burger fresh off the grill.

His mother returned with their tickets in hand before he could finish judging an elderly couple looking for the security checkpoint.

"Here's your tickets, boys," she said handing them two separate tickets when Mark noticed something.

"Where's yours, Mom?"

She didn't respond immediately, staring at him in silence before letting out a sigh. "Mark," she began. "I cannot go where you are headed. I'm not special like you."

"What are you talking about?"

"You two will arrive at LaGuardia Airport in roughly three hours. When you get there look for a guy holding a sign with Ford on it. From there he should take you to the camp. Once you get there, promise me you'll stay out of trouble."

"What camp?"

"Mark, you don't have enough time to tell you about everything. Your flight leaves in approximately forty minutes. If you don't get on that plane the local police are going to arrest both of you. I don't want to see my baby boy hauled off to jail so please listen to me and go," she begged.

He could she was trying her hardest not to break down in tears. This situation was too messed up for his preference, rather if it never happened he would have been alright. So as his friend pulled his arm away from his mother, he swore he'd do his best to keep her from crying. He gave a nod and a small smile before turning to his friend as they walked to the TSA line.

Tom was tugging him over to a shorter line, figuring out they had the accelerated precheck on their tickets. As they approached the X-ray scanner, Mark grew a little worried over the sword inside his carry on. Before he could raise the question with Tom, he realized his friend was already going through the scan. Figuring that if he were the one to get caught going through the security check, at least his friend could get to New York without a problem. Stepping into the scanner as instructed he waited for the moment one of the security would haul him away for bringing a sharp object through. Thankfully that moment never happened as the guy on the opposite end allowed him through.

Surprised why the machine did not automatically buzz with activity, Mark took this as a sign to quietly walk away. Grabbing his bag from the tray, he joined Tom over by a kiosk before they started walking towards their terminal. They passed by a couple of stores selling collectible magnets, snacks, and reading material and the fast food restaurants making food for passengers to eat on their flights. His stomach already called out for some food, but Tom caught his attention with people already boarding their plane.

They patiently waited as the receptionist at the counter called out seating locations. Upon hearing their area, they walked over to the line and showed their IDs and tickets to the clerk. After their tickets were approved, they walked down the terminal to the plane's entrance where the flight crew greeted them as they boarded. Giving a small nod to them before slowly waddling to their seats, placing their carry-ons in the overhead compartment. Mark moved over to the window seat, looking out at the workers below.

A few minutes passed, all passengers were accounted for as the flight crew made their last walk down the aisle before takeoff. Moments later one of the air hostesses was demonstrating the safety features of the seatbelt while Mark took a glance at the runway from the corner of his eye. He caught a glimpse of an airplane much larger than theirs race down the runway in the opposite direction, the roar of its engines muffled slightly by their own. It wouldn't be long before they would ascend into the sky to New York City.

Tom's movement brought him back to attention, seeing him tightening the seat belt around his waist. His fingers were drumming against the arm rest as his leg bounced in his seat.

"Is this the first time you've ever flown," Mark inquired.

"And what of it?"

"Nothing, it's alright to be nervous your first time."

"He said coyly."

"Just relax, we'll be in the air in like two minutes."

"Whatever you say…"

No sooner had the plane finished revving its engine, the metal bird lurched down the runway. Mark could see his friend tensing up as it slowly lifted from the ground into the sky. After a few minutes of maneuvering, the plane straightened out as they entered some clouds. Without much of a view to look at Mark left the cover open a small crack before looking at Tom. To his amusement his friend remained as anxious as he did when they started moving.

"So, any ideas what we could be walking into once we arrive," Mark inquired.

"Not a clue. If I had to guess, I'd say–" he began before a crackle of light flashed outside the window. "What was that?"

Mark opened the cover to see lightning flashing in the distance. Figuring it out he turned and said, "Just lightning hitting the wing, nothing to be concerned about."

"You say that–"

"It's just positive and negative charges moving at a high rate, really common place when it comes to flying. These things are designed to take a lightning strike, again nothing to worry about."

"I'll hold you to that then," he muttered as he tried to relax in his seat.

Mark gave him a reassuring smile before directing his attention to a magazine in the pocket in front of him. They still had roughly another hour and a half before they landed in New York so maybe some light reading would pass the time. As he flipped to an advertisement about a luxury wristwatch he couldn't help but feel a little nervous about what was to come.

* * *

Well this is the thing that I've neglected to work on for the past few months, the first version felt a little too bland, so I thought about spicing it up from scratch. I don't anticipate others to start reading this due to its OCs instead of actual characters from the Percy Jackson series, but I still want to get this out there in case anyone finds it amusing.

The next chapter will have a little more world building aspects than this one. This one was centered more towards character development on both characters than anything else. I'll highlight more on their upbringing later as that will have to wait for a long time.

Either way, I hope you liked this installment and I will see you in the next one. Bye bye!


	4. Interception

Interception

Disclaimer: I do not own PJO. That rightfully belongs to Rick Riordan. Any similarities, fictional or otherwise, are merely coincidence.

* * *

"Anywhere the struggle is great, the level of ingenuity and inventiveness is high." – Eleni Zaude Gabre-Madhin

* * *

Mark looked over his friend as they exited the terminal. He wasn't looking too hot, either motion sickness or nausea took over his features. Obviously, the flight took a toll on him as his travel bag hung loosely from his shoulders.

"Come on," Mark said placing his friend's arm over his shoulder. "Let's get you a Sprite."

"Alright, but I'm going to complain the entire way," he groaned as he dragged his feet against the tile floor.

As they trudged over to one of the vendors, Mark noticed a large group of older teenagers walking to a terminal. Judging from the matching clothes and small bags they must have been a sports team, either high school or college level athletes. They seemed ecstatic to go on a flight, probably hyped for an out of state game. Maybe when he would attend college he would try out for an intercollegiate team.

After purchasing the soft drink Tom nursed it slowly letting the caffeine work its magic. They were sitting down at a row of chairs for an empty terminal watching the people walk by. The tight schedule they were on was forgotten for the moment to allow his friend to recover from the experience of flying for the first time.

"Tom are we normal," he asked.

"No, we're not," Tom muttered. "I think nothing about us is considered normal by any standards."

"What makes you say that?"

"Look at it this way, how many teenage Filipinos and Native American fugitive duos do you see running from both the law and monsters?"

"Fair point."

"What I'm saying is that we are new to this whole 'wanted' situation. If this place we're headed is safe, then we might be able to lay low for a while."

"I guess so…"

"Well," he said standing up. "Let's not keep that contact waiting."

"Alright."

Upon exiting the waiting area, the two looked around for the person they were supposed to meet. The entrance to the airline security had less of a crowd than O'Hare International but there was still a significant amount of people. Mark didn't know what they could determine as their contact other than the person would have his last name on it.

"How are we going to find a needle in a –"

"Found him."

Before Mark could ask, Tom pointed at the person in question as he walked towards him. Close to the exit stood an older teen of lighter complexion in crutches, probably three years their senior, reading a magazine. From this distance he could see brown curly hair tucked under a baseball cap, New York Mets if he were to guess. A sign that read "Ford & Company" was tucked between his bright orange jacket sleeve and the one of the grey crutches at his side. Wow, that wasn't hard at all, he thought as he followed his friend's lead.

Tom stopped a few feet away from the teen not saying a word. Oddly enough, the older teen did not respond to their presence. Instead he just turned the page of his reading material as if nothing else mattered. If he was completely honest this seemed a little rude to him.

"Are you Ford," the teen inquires without removing his eyes from the page.

"And company," Tom responded.

"Come with me," the stranger stated tucking the magazine with the sign between his arm pits and the cushion of his crutch.

The duo looked a bit skeptical but continued to follow him. The hobbling teen led them to a bus stop where they waited for a bus to arrive with a light pitter patter of rain against the asphalt and rolling thunder in the distance. After they boarded the transport, the vehicle methodically drove to a nearby parking garage. From there they disembarked before the teen approached a worn-out white van with a strawberry logo reading Long Island Farms on the side.

"Wow, a white van. What an inconspicuous vehicle to board," Tom said condescendingly.

"Tom –"

"It's your choice whether you board or not, doesn't matter to me," the teen said unlocking the doors. "Just means the federal agents picking up your trail will have an easier time finding you two."

On that note the two walked over to the opposite side of the vehicle to open the sliding door. Inside they could see the interior had a variety of bronze gardening tools strapped to the sides and floorboard. A few chemical containers were contained separately in a clear container labeled 'Hazardous chemicals.' As they climbed in Mark noticed the seats were situated across from the door they just entered.

"What is this organization, the Gardeners Union of New York," Tom asked incredulously as he buckled up.

"No, agriculture is just a cover for our operations," the teen said as he started the engine.

"Which is?"

"Espionage," he said steering the van out of the garage and onto a road.

"Yeah, and my name is Christopher Columbus."

"Well you're going to shit your pants with the ass load of information you two are about to get because we got a ton of traffic between us and the location."

As if to emphasize his point the van slowed to a stop with honking going on around them. Mark caught a glimpse of the freeway entrance through the windshield, the lane filled to the brim with vehicles. Once they finally rolled up to the actual freeway, Mark spotted a construction sign on the side of the road, their arrival delayed for another hour by the looks of it.

"Alright, I'll bite," Mark said. "What else is there that we should know?"

"You know anything about Greek mythology?"

"I know a large amount of it can be summed up as 'Unfortunately Zeus was feeling horny'," Tom interjected.

A low rumbling of thunder echoed outside, slightly shaking their vehicle.

"If you weren't on his bad side already, you certainly are now," the teen said.

"Who exactly are you referring to," Mark asked.

"Back to my original point," he continued. "The gods, monsters, Olympus, all that exists."

"Bullshit."

"You can say that but I'm going to take a quick guess as to how both of you are in this situation," the teen said. "You two have only one parent because the other one left sometime around either your conception or your birth. From there your single parent raised you as best they could despite your problems with dyslexia and ADHD. Now recently you had an encounter with a monster like a harpy or hellhound that also happened to coincide with local, state, and federal law enforcement keeping a watchful eye on one of you due to a history of violence. And since you met with your parent, they sent you to New York for protection against any other potential attacks or arrests. Am I close?"

Mark didn't say anything without glancing at his friend. Evidently, he was glaring at the rear-view mirror on the other side of the divide. His leg bounced up and down as his hands slowly formed a fist.

"Yeah," Mark answered. "Right on the nose."

"Thought as much, though my next best guess would have involved something like you two being brought to the camp by your parents before you reached thirteen but it's kind of rare when a situation like that appears. Demigods typically cause some sort of damage before arriving, but never as much as you two according to the reports flowing in from Illinois. Props for giving me the best story among the protectors."

"Demigods?"

"Essentially one of your parents was a god or goddess. To keep their existence over the centuries, the gods and goddesses would descend to the mortal world to sire children to remind mortals they were still alive. When they reach a certain age, monsters recognize the dangers of an adolescent demigod and ramp up their attacks. Eventually the demigods wind up in New York and begin training at Camp Half-Blood or die a painful death."

"Back up a second," Tom interrupted. "How is it that other people don't see all the monsters and gods roaming around?"

"There is this thing called the Mist, rather boring name but it serves its purpose. It basically acts as a disguise for anything of mystical quality like the sword your friend is carrying. The deities and monsters try not to interact with mortals and trick their eyes into seeing something else instead of themselves. Monsters appear as human at first but the Mist waivers around demigods, making their primary demigod hunting method more like that of an ambush predator."

"That explains the pool incident but what's so special about this camp?"

"In ancient times, demigods had no protections from monster attacks in Greece, it's rumored it still isn't. However, as civilization moved west the gods decided to create a haven where their children could learn skills necessary for survival into adulthood."

"And skills just so happen to align with espionage?"

"I'm getting to that. Around the Revolutionary War, Washington understood the need to have an intricate knowledge of what the British were doing so he saw Camp Half-Blood as the answer to his problem."

"How could he –"

"His father fell for Athena and he was the result of their 'diplomatic discussions.' Moving on, after the war ended the demigods at Camp Half-Blood decided to stick with the structure of an intelligence agency. Since then we've been searching for monsters and recruiting new demigods wherever they popped up in the continental US of A."

"I take it the training reflects that of the CIA."

"In a way yes and no. While the end results correlate with a similar assignment the training is more of a typical summer camp."

"What do you mean by assignments?"

"Well each god passes their traits to their children, stealth with the children of Hermes, combat with Ares' spawn, coordination with Athena's children, etc. The training is used to draw out their innate powers and skills, sometimes they get claimed during the training, so they get a fast track to assignments in that specific area."

"So, who's your godly parent?"

"Oh, I'm not a demigod," the teen said.

"Say what now?"

The teen lifted his baseball hat revealing two small horns poking out of his curly brown hair. Before turning his attention to the thinning of traffic he said, "I am a satyr."

"A what?"

"Half goat dude," Tom responded.

"Pretty much. I do assignments jointly between Camp Half-Blood and the Counsel of Cloven Elders, specifically protector services."

"Assuming that is a level of bureaucracy that we don't need to know right now, what's the protector thing?"

"Basically, certified protectors do either undercover or escort assignments to safely identify and transport demigods to the camp."

"Was there one near Lake Forest, Illinois the past few years?"

"I don't know about any satyrs working in that area, but that area's been under classified surveillance. Only the head directors of the camp could provide that sort of information."

That new information unsettled Mark as his eyes shifted from the dark landscape outside the windshield. Thoughts drifted over the possibilities of why the place they lived, more specifically the area they went to school for the past five years was considered classified disturbed him. All this time when they could have avoided the monster encounter nobody at this camp knew that they even existed except for the directors. That didn't sit well with him as his mind went back to how they managed to get away from them.

He paused at the sound of lightning close to their location, two or three miles away judging from the booming, reminded of the object currently protruding from his backpack. The memory of the arrow firmly planted in the pill of ash got him thinking about who could have fired it. A fletch of the arrow rubbed against the edge of his thigh as the van moved away from the busy freeway city lanes to a quiet scenic highway. If it weren't nighttime and stormy, he would certainly go out to enjoy the scenery, but right now they were on a bit of a deadline.

Before Mark could inquire about the projectile Tom asked, "So who's in charge of overseeing this camp?"

"There are technically a lot of people in charge of certain things, but only Chiron and Dionysus have access to everything in the camp."

"The god of wine? Why would he be one of the people in charge?"

"Punishment though I am not obliged to divulge that information further."

"But he's a god of alcohol, isn't that a risk for the campers?"

"Again, not my place to discuss. You can probably ask him once we get there."

"Speaking of arrival," Mark interjected. "How long do we have until we get there?"

"Well," the teen began, "Assuming everything goes to plan -"

"Oh no," Tom muttered.

"We should arrive in roughly ten to fifteen minutes."

"What is it, Tom?"

"I sense a disturbance."

"Very funny, kid."

"What are you talking -"

Not a moment later a flash of light streaked across the sky in front of them before striking a tall object. An ear shattering boom followed shortly as the silhouette descended towards the road, revealing a utility pole once it reached the headlights field of vision. The teen slammed on the breaks, but the vehicle raced towards the downed power line as he tried to turn away from the obstacle. The rear tire on the right side smashed the transformer, hitting the pole at an angle that forced the van to tilt before its side greeted the wet concrete with a screech. Their driver let out a curse though Mark couldn't name which over the shriek of metal against the asphalt.

Once they stopped sliding, Mark thanked the fact that all the gardening supplies were still secured safely to the sides and floor of the van. If one of those sharp bronze tools got loose, not including if they were all loose, Mark might have gotten some foreign object protruding from his side. However, one issue of suddenly being jerked forward presented itself when he contacted the seat belt system. For some reason, the rear seats had a five-point harness system, maybe to restrain angry or difficult passengers, Mark couldn't really tell. Had the van landed on its left side, he could have met the firm cushions of the seat he was sitting in. Instead the belt strap that rested between his legs hurt him in a very sensitive place. Without a doubt, he was going to be sore for a few hours.

Tom was already feeling over his body for any injuries. "I've got nothing serious, how about you Mark?"

"I'll be fine," Mark hissed. "Just need a minute to breathe."

"Don't think we have a minute, my friend."

As Tom carefully released the harness lock, a low groan reached Mark's ears. In that moment of chaos, he completely forgot about their driver. His head lurched up to see rain entering through the broken windshield. The rustling of glass shards accompanied by a hiss got him to grasp his restraints.

Feeling the lock click and the harnesses, Mark slipped through the straps before landing on the side of the van with a thud. He turned towards the window to the front seats, finding their driver lying on the passenger door with glass crutches underneath him. His hat was nowhere inside the cabin, so Mark guessed it wound up outside somewhere.

"Hey, uh guy," Mark murmured. "You okay up there?"

"Ugh, I have a name you know," the older teen spat.

"You never told us."

"It's Roosevelt, Leonard Roosevelt."

"Don't care," Tom announced as he shuffled through the items closest to the ground.

"So, Leonard, you got any injuries?"

"I've sustained a small fracture in my arm with a couple cuts on my hands and face."

"That's what you get for jinxing up," Tom muttered while it sounded like he was juggling plastic items.

"Shut up! Think you two can climb out the back exit?"

The sound of Tom kicking at the rear doors pulled Mark away from the older teen. His shorter friend was trying to drop kick the doors open, the metal hinges groaning with each strike.

"Christ… Tom," Mark shouted.

Stopping his progress Tom turned and asked, "What?"

"Why don't you let him unlock the doors before you try breaking a leg?"

He didn't respond immediately, waiting for Leonard to unlock the doors. With a resounding click, he added, "Alright, now how do you plan on opening the doors without getting electrocuted?"

"What are you talking about?"

He motioned towards the door windows like Vanna White would to the Wheel of Fortune board. Finally, Mark noticed the flashes of light dancing outside, traveling around faster with the added effects of the water on the ground. From what his mother taught him, water and electricity were a bad combination for the human body. Figuring they didn't have much of a choice, Mark turned back towards the cabin.

"Leonard, you got any rubber gloves in here?"

"Green box on the right."

Looking down he spotted the box lying on the cracked sliding door window. Crouching Mark picked up the box in a cradle before opening the lid. Lying on the top of the other clothes were two or three sets of baby blue rubber gloves. As he handed a pair off to his friend, Mark could tell they were going to be a tight squeeze for his hands. Once he started slipping the protective gear on, he realized just how much the material gripped his hands. After getting the gloves on Leonard spoke up from the front.

"I doubt this thing will run even if we get it back on its tires. We're going to have to torch the thing before we set on foot."

"I don't think we can burn a vehicle in the middle of a storm unless you have nitro glycerin or napalm in here."

"Got something just as good near the doors, check the hazardous materials bin."

Tom beat him to the punch popping off the lid before glancing inside.

"Holy Jesus," Tom muttered. "What is that? What the FUCK is that?! What is that, Roosevelt?"

Reaching inside the container, he pulled out what appeared to be a glass bottle of some green liquid and some brown rags. If Mark were to make an educated guess based on the news programs and documentaries he watched on his off time at school, he would assume the box contained ingredients for Molotov cocktails.

"The green liquid is Greek fire," Leonard shouted from the front. "Perfect for destroying monsters, demigods, and evidence alike."

"And this smoke grenade looking mother hubbard?" Tom said replacing the rag with the object he just described. A red line stretched across the object horizontally with some lettering above it, but Mark couldn't read it in the darkness of the cargo area.

"That's military-grade thermate, helps light large quantities of Greek fire without the chance of exploding."

"Great," Tom groaned setting the items gently back in their container. "Let's prop open this door and get out."

"Use the tree trimmer extensions for that, I'll meet you two over on the side," Leonard called back as he shuffled through the windshield.

The tool they were looking for hung from the left side restraints a few inches out of their reach. Mark decided it would be safer it he hoisted his friend up to unfastening the restraints, crouching down for him to get on his shoulders. Once Tom got on, he slowly rose to his feet as his friend took his time undoing the safety straps.

"What's taking you so long," Mark asked looking up.

"I'm getting these sweet hatchets off the wall."

"Why?"

"Dude, you get a goddamn sword while I'm stuck with my bare hands. I'd rather have something instead of nothing out of this little venture of ours."

"Fine, just hurry up with the trimmer."

"Alright, no need to get anxious over…"

A few seconds later, Tom released the trimmers from their restraints with Mark slowly lowering him to his feet. Once he stood back up, Mark held the trimmers roughly four feet collapsed. Pressing a red button on the handle, the tool extended twice its original length, becoming harder to handle inside the van. Holding it slightly aloof Mark gripped it like a vaulting pole or a spear.

His eyes looked over his friend briefly, the hatchets he had hanging from his belt tapped against his thighs with each movement. Mark couldn't completely disregard his friend's urge to have a weapon though he didn't see much of a use for axes. The bronze ax heads were covered by a protective leather case surrounding the sharp edges. The handles themselves weren't all that interesting, made of a simple piece of wood. Aside from the bronze heads, they looked almost like any other hatchet found in the gardening tools section of Home Depot.

With a pull of the handle and a little shoulder behind it, the doors pushed open with their eyes examining the surrounding area. They could clearly see the utility pole now, sparks skipping along the water on the asphalt in a brilliant display. The transformer had some torn wires where the electricity escaped without any hindrance. Thunder continued to roar in the distance giving the duo a better sense of the environment they were in.

Rain fell onto the car doors as Mark and Tom situated the trimmers to hold up the door above their heads. The only problem with that was the metal trimmers themselves. They didn't have any intention of holding the door up due to the rough interior not allowing any place to stick. After about five minutes of failure, Tom said, "Fuck it," before spearing the trimmers through the plastic cover. Luckily, he didn't cut any electrical wires in the process, but Mark would certainly give him a lecture on it later.

"You two just about done in there," Leonard shouted from the side of the highway.

"Just need to get the fire ready," Mark responded.

"Place the bottles in the center, keep one for emergency, use the thermate, and let's get going!"

"Alright."

Mark turned back to Tom greeted by the sight of his carry-on getting tossed to him. Surprised by the sudden movement, he barely caught it as Tom slung his own over his shoulders. Following his friend's lead, he placed the straps of his carry-on over his shoulders while Tom fiddled with the explosives. By the time Mark was ready to leave the vehicle, Tom had already secured a bottle under his arm with a grenade ready to use. Slowly, Mark vacated the vehicle holding onto the bottle that Tom handed him before pulling the thermate's pin and tossing the object near the pile of explosives.

"Now that that's over -" Mark trailed off as he got a better look at Leonard.

"Well, that's new," Tom commented.

From the waist up, Leonard looked like any ordinary teenager they can across excluding the horns sticking out of his head. The similarities ended once his eyes traveled a little more south of his waist. Instead of the casts around his calves and feet he had the legs of a goat. His black fur shined in the light from the sparks, matted by the rain and blood. Given the fact the dude removed his lower clothes, Mark was having a hard time dealing with the whole half goat thing right now.

"Maybe give us a heads up before you decide to go commando next time?"

"Sorry, those fake legs always irritate me after a while. Feels much better being free right now."

"Alright," Mark groaned pinching the bridge of his nose. "How long until we reach this camp?"

"Well, since our mode of transportation is out of service, we should get there in roughly an hour and a half if we walk all the way."

"How many miles do we have?"

"I'd say four miles maybe."

The scream of fire taking over the interior of the van caught their attention. It wasn't even a minute since they left the van and already the inside was becoming more and more consumed by the flames. The vehicle crackled with life as it fed the fire.

"I'm going to take this as a sign for us to get going," Tom said walking down the edge of the highway.

"Does this usually happen," Mark inquired as he walked beside Leonard.

"Only when we're hauling large amounts of demigods from the airport or somewhere else. Happens a lot when we have demigods arrive from LaGuardia or JFK International or leaving for the airports at the beginning and end of summer."

"How many are there going to be at the camp when we arrive?"

"Roughly, I'd say somewhere between thirty and forty demigods. There's usually hundreds the summer time."

"Why so many?"

"Well, most of them just come here for the summer while keeping an eye out in their towns of origin the rest of the year. It gives them the option of staying with their families and continuing their education like normal. However, there are some demigods that decide to board the entire year for whatever reason that might be. Even if they are a little too dangerous to attend regular school the camp has this home school deals with a school district close to here."

"Seems convenient."

"Yeah, really helps keep them accounted for and not running around without supervision. Otherwise monsters would eventually find them and I'm not sure what exactly might happen to them."

"How do you keep monsters out of this camp if they are so dangerous?"

"We got this magical barrier surrounding the entire camp keeping the monsters and mortals outside of the camp. The only flaw in the barrier is that people can grant permission for monsters and mortals to enter."

"Do you think that barrier could ever collapse?"

"I highly doubt it."

"Sounds like a sequel," Tom shouted back a few meters in front of them.

"What's his deal," Leonard asked in a whisper.

"He's a bit of an ass to strangers, but rather nice to people he knows."

"Are you sure about that?"

Mark pause for a moment to think it over. "He's a little less of an ass to people he knows," he corrected.

"Mark, you and Roosevelt better start moving your asses or we're all going to get colds from this rain!"

A moment of silence passed between the two before Mark decided to respond. "Okay, maybe he's not that different to people he knows…"

"I'll say…"

The rain began to pour harder as they continued down the road. By this point any clothes they were wearing would have no effect on their ability to stay dry in this weather. Already Mark's shoes were drenched in water, his synthetic socks not fairing any better in this weather. From what he could gather, the rain was falling so hard that the splashes came back up to his waist. The thought of the movie Forrest Gump crossed his mind for a moment before he looked up at his friend.

Tom stood on the side of the road with his left arm at a right angle as if he were signaling a left turn at an intersection. He didn't understand what that was all about, so he continued walking along the road. Before he could pass him, Tom's hand came down and grabbed at the clothing on his chest. Mark was about to retort for the sudden gesture, but Tom motioned with his other hand to remain silent. They stood there for a solid minute listening to the rain and thunder in the distance.

"I don't understand, what are we trying to listen for," Mark whispered.

"We aren't listening, we're feeling," Tom stated as if it were common knowledge.

"Okay, can you be a little less cryptic?"

"Something is coming this way."

"Are you sure it isn't just a semi-truck? One could be rolling down the road to the city…"

"He's right," Leonard said stalking forward. "Something big is headed this way."

Mark wanted some sort of answer that wasn't incredibly difficult to understand but soon he began to feel the gravity of their situation. Or at least in this instance felt what kind of danger they were in. Even with the thunder relatively close shaking his core, he felt the ground shudder beneath his feet. Although the tremors were infrequent, the intensity of each successive one increase exponentially. At first, he would have considered it as just an earthquake if not for the distant noise that followed.

It started out as a normal rumble similar the thunder in the distance. However, that rumbling evolved into a disgusting hiss from somewhere across the road. This terrified him to no end as he didn't think snakes were active during the late autumn in New York. Whatever was approaching them had to be incredibly big to create enough noise to drown out a thunderstorm.

"Get down," Tom whisper shouted into his ear as he pulled him off the asphalt into a small ditch near the tree line. Mark wasn't prepared for the sudden movement and nearly landed on his face if his arms didn't keep him out of the mud. That pleasant note did not last long before his friend shoved the wet soil onto his face. He was about to wipe away the material, but Tom responded with, "Snakes see heat signatures. Stay low and keep that shit on your face."

Not even a few minutes after they were all prone in the ditch, he heard the falling of trees and crunching of shrubs. From his position, Mark couldn't see what was approaching from the other side of the road. The water moved chaotically with the quakes, splashing up into his face. The wind decided to change directions on them, carrying a putrid, acidic smell in their direction. He wanted to cough so badly, but he resisted the urge as best he could with tears in his eyes.

The rumbling felt as if it were directly overhead, the air itself displaced by the noise. Sure enough, Mark felt a sharp decrease in rain landing on his back noticing the rain clumping up and pooling to the ground like a small waterfall. Every fiber of his being shouted at him to not look, but in this weather with the cold rain water getting to his head he couldn't help taking a glance at their most recent problem. He turned to look over his shoulder, but his eyes did not see any difference from the sky and whatever was above them. That was until a flash of lightning illuminated the night sky.

To this very day, Mark still had nightmares about what he encountered that fateful night. In that brief instance of light, he fully caught a glimpse of just how big of a creature happened upon them. Although the was on a lower slope looking up at a sharp angle, he could guess the gargantuan reptile looming over them was roughly larger than a dump truck at the shoulders. Multiple serpent like appendages met at the shoulder but branched out in their own sinister way. A green liquid seeped from each of its maws, falling to the ground in clumped masses. He noticed the blackish red scales lining its hide when his eyes landed on the clawed fore limbs. Between flashes, he could tell the black, serrated claws had to be around three feet in length if not longer.

This horrific beast had not taken much notice of them yet, but it stood in the middle of the road. Each head it had looked in a different direction sniffing the air as it searched for something. Mark hoped it was not pursuing them tonight as that would really put a damper on his desire to live. One of the heads snapped at another, possibly for getting too close to another, followed by the other heads trying to stop the petty quarrel.

Before long, the giant creature decided to go further onto their side of the road. Its massive limbs lurched over them before connecting with the wet grass on the other side. Mark could hear the claws piercing the ground with a sickly slurping of the mud and bubbling water. It moved like a lizard would, but Mark thought of this creature more as some sort of long-necked dinosaur with more pointed teeth and heads. It lumbered into the trees to his right, the long tail swaying in the wind for balance. They waited around ten minutes before one of them made any sort of sound.

Mark hung his head as he let out a shaky sigh of relief. "You guys see that," he whispered to the other two.

"No," Tom whispered coldly. "We're two old ladies with outdated prescription glasses. Of course, we saw the fucking dinosaur, you twit!"

"Okay, you need to chill dude," Leonard said as he started to get up.

"Don't you start on me, you furry's wet dream," Tom whirled on him. "I have not been 'chill' since the day I was adopted. Before then I was stuck wandering the streets daily with only a glimmer of relaxation in a local library before the librarians called security on my ass. I am not taking another one of your pieces of relaxation advice until we finally get to that stupid camp of yours, got it?"

If Leonard had a retort for Tom, he did a great job at biting his tongue. Mark damn near yelled at him for the snap, but they didn't have time for arguing. Should the giant creature decide that three teenagers were a delightful late evening meal, he would much rather they leave before it returned.

"Let's just get going," Mark said tiredly. "I'd rather we get a good night's rest over spending another hour soaked in this storm."

Without another word, they all stood up and began trudging down the road once more. As they continued their path the wind picked up, blowing against they a lot harder than when they first started walking. The rain drained him of energy and replaced with shivering numbness in his fingers. He blew into his hands to warm up, but like everything else that happened that day he was out of luck.

After walking for what felt like hours Mark was sick and tired of the storm. "How much longer," he shouted over the winds.

"Should be around this turn and up a hill," Leonard called out.

"It freaking better be," Mark grumbled.

Upon following the turn, he could see a small glimmer of light on a tree. From this distance he couldn't tell if it was either a torch or some lamp, but he was damn well appreciative that the events of this day would finally end. If he could shed a tear without it stinging his face shortly after leaving his eye, he would feel a lot better.

"Finally," he muttered. "It's finally over."

"Has today not taught you anything about Murphy's Law," Tom shouted crossly.

As if whatever Greek deity or deities that controlled their fate decided to piss in their cornflakes, the quaking returned. This time, however, the tremors were quicker and more frequent. Without thinking, Mark slowly craned his eyes over his shoulders to see where the creature was coming from.

"Oh, fuck me sideways," Leonard said over the wind.

"Don't say that. Zeus might take that as an invitation," Tom said.

Mark didn't want to think Tom was purposely trying to anger an ancient being, but it was becoming increasingly difficult with each jab. Lightning streaked in front of them a few meters away, revealing the fast approaching monstrosity in pursuit. He froze at the sight of the creature, fear taking away all motor functions. His hand twitched against the handle of his sword, but he was trying to keep himself from pissing his pants more than anything else.

"You two make a run for it. I'm going to distract it," Leonard said.

"You can't be serious," Mark criticized.

"This is the Lernaean Hydra," Leonard stated as he produced a bag of what appeared to be acorns. "Even if you landed a hit, you'd increase your chances of another head growing."

"Listen to him," Tom shouted pulling his arm towards the hill. "That bitch is like a starfish on steroids. We need to go NOW!"

"We can't just leave him here!"

"Don't let his sacrifice go to waste! Move your ass up that fucking hill before I bridal carry your ass!"

Mark paused to look at Leonard one more time. He had indeed pulled acorns out of the pouch before tossing them in the direction of the monster. A set of pipes appeared in his hands shortly after with him playing a soft tune barely audible over the shrieking winds. Plants started to burst out of the ground as he played the instrument, growing thick and intertwined with each other.

"Go already! I'll be fine!"

"Dammit," Mark shouted as he started racing towards the light.

Tom kept pace with him as they charged towards the slope, ignoring the rain battering against their front. Mark was more than furious that they couldn't do more against the cretin, but Leonard had a good point. From what he remembered about Greek mythology, some guy slain the creature with fire to cauterize the necks, something they did not have access to. Just as he realized his mistake while finally meeting the bottom of the hill the worst hit them like a brick wall.

Leonard's body landed halfway up the side of the hill with a sickening thud. Just from the looks of it, his right leg was broken with huge holes in his thighs. Even in the dim light at the top of the hill, he could see that same green liquid seeping from his wounds. He didn't want to guess what it was, but he was certain it was not good for his health. A loud hiss brought him out of his stupor, turning to see the behemoth lizard approaching from the road with all its heads focused on them.

"Tom, carry Leonard up the hill with my bag," Mark said as he pulled out the bottle.

"You've got to be shitting me right now!"

"Just listen to me this one fucking time and do what I asked!"

He heard his friend growl as he took his bag replacing it with a lighter. "You'd better win, you bastard."

Mark didn't say another word as he thumbed the thermate pin and drew his sword. He didn't think about the injured teen behind him, his friend climbing up the hill with all their stuff, nor his own mortality. Seeing the monster charging at him he could only think of one thing after lighting the bottle's rag. Survive.

He threw the bottle a few feet away from him where it broke and spread across the ground. The hydra took notice of the new light in the night but continued forward. Mark held his blade over the fire despite the risk of getting burned, hoping the heat from the reaction would transfer to the sword. Within moments the middle and tip of his weapon started to glow.

As the overgrown reptile stepped over the fire, one of the heads shot forward. Mark dropped to the ground as it sailed over him, lobbing it off with a horizontal swing of his sword. The flesh continued forward, landing on the asphalt before it began to fade away into dust. One down, eight more to go.

The monster took exception to losing one of its heads but did not sprout another one from the beheaded section. Two more snapped forward, intent on biting him while he was on the ground. With reflexes he didn't know he had, Mark pushed off the ground while splitting one of the heads down the middle from under its jaw to its muzzle. As that head started to fade towards the base of the neck, he sidestepped the third head before bringing the blade down in a brutal execution arc. His blade dinged against the asphalt with the head flopping of the body and into an ashy existence.

Sadly, Mark's advantage over the hydra disappeared as the blade lost a significant amount of heat cutting through the three heads. Already the fire was behind the abomination preventing him from making anymore progress. He knew it was practically suicide, but he wasn't focused on that detail as he weaved around the monster's body. A few heads tried to get him as he got close but failed to do more than miss him by a foot or two. Just as he reached the fire and dipped his blade in the liquid that made the reaction, something scaly slammed into hit torso and sent him flying up the hill.

As he sailed through the air, any breath that he had was knocked out of him. His eyesight turned blurry as excruciating pain enveloped his chest and everything seemed to go in slow motion. When he landed on his side, he lost feeling in his left arm. Every breath he took felt like inhaling a bag of needles stabbing at his lungs mercilessly. He couldn't overcome the pain to get up and walk up the hill let alone crawl the rest of the way there.

His vision was fading in and out badly as somewhere in the flight he lost his glasses. The bleariness just increased to the point he had a hard time seeing things up close. Between blinks he caught a couple of things: the lumbering outline of the monster at the bottom of the hill, Tom attempting to get him functioning again, some sort of red orange color springing up in front of the hydra's outline, and some people attending to his wounds.

Despite his ears still ringing, he could hear one thing before he fell unconscious. "… are the ones that we've been expecting."

* * *

At this point, Mark was getting tired of the whole unconscious business. He was almost certain that being in this state was not good for his health. Then again, neither was getting thrown by some giant creature's tail or getting stabbed by some bird person's talons. A lot more could probably be bad for his health, but he didn't want to delve into the conundrum and views of philosophy. His main concern was getting out of whatever visions his mind had in store for him this time.

By observing his surroundings, he could tell that the place he was in felt extremely familiar. Wind swept around him at high speeds without warning, nearly knocking away his glasses. As he held desperately onto the arms of his glasses, his visibility diminished greatly when sand shot up from the ground. A few grains got past his hands and irritated the corners of his eyes in the process. Before he could do anything else, he had to deal with the sand induced tears forming in his eyes.

He removed the frames from the bridge of his nose to wipe away the sand with his sleeves. For a few minutes he couldn't ease the stinging from his sockets. Eventually the grains left with his vision in a blurry mess. Ignoring the water gathering around his eyes, he placed the glasses back where he needed them most.

His eyes drifted across the surrounding landscape that led to the realization that he was on that beach once more. He was about to get up from off the sand when he got the overwhelming premonition that something important was about to happen. As luck would have it thunder and the crashing of waves off to his right caught is attention, pulling him towards a rather unusual sight. Two bearded men in tunics were grappling near the shores. Despite their shouting, Mark could not hear them over the agitating winds and aggressive waves pounding the sands. Before long he felt the ground rumbling beneath him and the memory of last time resurfaced.

"Oh, son of a –" Mark muttered before the ground opened and swallowed him whole. His vision grew darker as he descended further into the darkness.

"Bitch," Mark gasped blinking his eyes a couple of times as a cold sensation enveloped his spine. Above him stood a pine tree with branches coated in snow. One precarious amount of snow jutted off a branch, as if the slightest disturbance might cause the white bundle to hurl towards his face. Just like the rest of the past few hours, luck was not on Mark's side, as a small bird demonstrated by flying just too close to the branch causing the snow to briefly blot out his vision.

After the sudden startle with the cold weather leaving its mark on his face, cheeks, and nose probably a bright pink from exposure, he sat up audibly crunching more of the frozen irritation under his thighs. Observing his environment told him one thing: he was back in that same forest where wolves were chasing someone. Mark hoped that at least this time another wild animal wouldn't tackle him.

A few minutes passed but neither the silhouette nor the wolves were spotted weaving in and out of the trees. Silence muted everything around him as he continued to sit under the tree in absolute wonder at the scene around him. He never got a chance to admire the area the last time his dreams tossed him into the cold. The serene beauty captured by the soft light reflecting off the moon's surface captivated him beyond the discomfort of chills running down his spine.

"Beautiful isn't it," a soft voice inquired. Mark glanced around quickly to find the source of the sound. To his dismay nobody appeared within eye-shot. He began to reach for his sword only to find the blade was not attached to his waist.

"There's no need for that," the voice continued. "I am only here to enjoy some peace before it happens, same as you."

"Before what happens," Mark edged out the question cautiously.

"Before the storm," the voice answered as the light of the moon started increasing its brightness. Combined with the reflection of the snow surrounding him, his vision grew increasingly difficult as the lights from the moon practically blinded him. He tried to keep it out by closing his eyes, but the light already did its damage to the point the light started to burn his skin.

In another moment, he no longer felt the sting against his face, but something felt awfully uncomfortable to him. Was it something in the air surrounding him or a sheer lack of something in the air that made him uneasy? A part of him could not discern any details about this foreign environment within the landscape of his unconscious mind.

He felt something creeping up on him outside of his vision, his hairs rising without warning. Dread filled his stomach as a wave of cold washed over his system. He could something vaguely like the sound of wood meeting wood, confirming his fear that something not human was observing him panic. If he weren't frozen in shock, he would have bolted like a mad man in the opposite direction of the noise. Before he could further think along those lines the clapping of wood started coming from all directions growing into a harmony of malevolence.

Just as Mark thought his heart was about to seize up from the frantic beating, it ceased with a low humming a few meters in front of him. This rapid change of pace caught his attention went it drew closer to his position. There in the darkness hovered an object that he could not discern until his eyes finally got some light on the situation. Floating in front of his face was a small cube, roughly the size of a die noticeable only for the cracks of light coming from within. He would have gotten a better look if something didn't draw his eyes away from the game piece.

All light from within the object suddenly muted when a growl sent all the blood racing from his face. His eyes slowly gravitated up to the source of the noise as his legs grew weak. Upon reaching the origin, he almost fell back as the creature towered over him more than two meters. What truly shook him to his core were the set of unnaturally green irises glowing in the dark. This display caught him off guard as the beast released a low growl, a mist catching the light of its eyes as it vocalized. Mark lost his voice as it produced a bloody curdling roar before something slammed into his head with tremendous force.

* * *

Mark landed face first into the ground, his head throbbing from the impact. He slowly regained consciousness as the throbbing continued as a diluted numbness, taking notice to his environment for the first time. A major shift to him was the complete lack of multi-headed reptilian monstrosities trying to murder him on a muddy hill in the rain. Instead he was on the carpeted floor of a dark room with a blanket entangled around his lower half. He let out a wavering sigh as he rubbed his face realizing he miraculously escaped death.

"Did you sleep well," a voice asked from somewhere in the room. Mark was so startled he spun his head around so fast he felt like he gave himself whiplash. Despite his minor self-harm, his eyes could not find where the voice came from until the click of a lamp drew his attention to a corner of the room.

In the haze of light cutting into the darkness like a knife, Mark could only respond with, "Lieutenant Dan?"

"I'm afraid your glasses are on the table," the figure stated, pointing in the direction of the furniture.

Slowly noticing his eye wear, he gingerly grabbed them off the glass table in front of him, ignoring the other objects on it for better vision. Upon placing his glasses on the bridge of his nose, he noticed that the figure was indeed a bearded man in a wheelchair, but he gave off an air of Patrick Stewart. The light of a lamp standing off to his side illuminated the business suit he was wearing. Unlike Gary Sinise's character in Forrest Gump this man had his beard trimmed in a way that screamed professional without coming off as a hipster.

"If you are hungry or thirsty, we have some refreshments as well," the stranger said again gesturing to the table.

"Uh thanks—" Mark paused reaching for the cold mug, realizing he didn't know this person's name.

"My name is Chiron, Activities Director of Camp Half Blood. And you must be Marcus Ford, you made quite the entrance a few nights ago."

"Okay, I have a couple of questions that I need answering before anymore information is presented to me," Mark stated before taking a sip from the mug, tasting his mother's homemade citrus ice cream.

"Ask away."

Mark drummed his fingers against his drink, peering at the smoothie inside. The surprising taste made him wonder how a drink from a stranger could taste like one of his mother's recipes when it was a family secret. He remembered a story his mother told him about how her younger brother was engaged to some rich girl from Old Town that wanted to create a business venture based on family recipes. If memory served him correctly, the girl left him after realizing the recipe was handed down to the eldest sibling, his mother. As ridiculous as it sounded, his relatives always got a kick out of the "cold hearted bitch left on South Shore" whenever they got together for Thanksgiving. For someone to have the recipe outside of the family was extremely suspicious to him.

"How do you know this recipe?"

"You mean the Nectar?"

"I know my family's recipe is good, but why is it called Nectar?"

"No, Nectar is a healing agent from the Olympians designed to heal wounds of demigods within short duration," Chiron explained. "It doesn't have a definitive taste as each demigod experiences something different. By now the headache of yours should be gone."

Mark finally noticed the throbbing had almost completely faded at the very mention of it. He felt around the area that greeted the floor a few moments ago to find minimal or diminishing numbness on the area.

"Unfortunately," Chiron continued observing Mark's behavior. "Nectar cannot completely heal infections or internal injuries without a cube of ambrosia."

Mark then gravitated to the plate of cubes arranged like a pyramid on the table. Setting the mug back on the drink coaster, he carefully picked up towards the side before looking at it closer. Based on touch he compared it to a dough like texture, like a dessert about to enter an oven. Finding nothing terribly out of the ordinary he popped it into his mouth with the taste of molten lava cake dancing on his tongue. He had to contain himself from shivering in delight at the small snack.

"Just don't consume too much of them, otherwise you could end up bursting into flames."

Upon hearing this warning, Mark stopped reaching for another cube out of fear. Instead he decided to pick himself and the blanket from the ground before asking his next line of questioning.

"Where am I?"

"At the moment, you are in my office, a room inside what has been known as the Big House. In a bit I am giving you a tour of this facility before showing you to the cabin new recruits reside until they are claimed."

"Recruits?"

"That's what we refer to new campers without any specific parentage. Demigods go through a few weeks of training before they are claimed by their parents, however some have been claimed within a few days of arrival."

"What's the importance of this claiming?"

"Claiming is the act of a deity acknowledging the existence of their child. Shortly after being claimed a recruit moves to their parent's cabin and starts training in a variety of courses related towards their lineage."

"So, in other words it's sort of like an internship into a family business?"

"That is one way of looking at it. It's more like a career or technical institute where the skill a recruit learns directly translates to a job in that area if they make it to adulthood?"

"If?"

"That's one of issues with recruits," Chiron said stroking his beard. "Since demigods are notorious for their ability to slay monsters, they remain extremely vulnerable until they receive training here. Even with training, they are still susceptible to the same forces as mortals."

"So, essentially not only do I have to worry about things like diseases, illnesses, and car accidents but also monster attacks and curses?"

"That is correct."

"And I thought high school was difficult."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that too much," Chiron stated as he started rolling across the room. "You still have a full day ahead of you. Now might be an opportune time to start the tour if we want to finish before dinner time."

"Alright, the sooner the better."

"I'd change your clothes before heading out though," Chiron pointed out. "It appears your dreams have done a number on you."

Following his intuition Mark looked over himself for the problem. Evidently the dreams caused him to wake up in cold sweat like last time. The long sleeve he was currently wearing was pretty soaked from the sweat.

"I will meet you downstairs when you are ready. Just follow the lights and you should reach the entrance," Chiron said as the floor beneath him shifted so only his chair was on a circle. From there he slowly descended before the hole was covered up and a new set of lights blinked into existence. The lights appeared almost like a road sign pointing in the direction of an old wooden door.

Could this day get any weirder, Mark thought as he imagined the possibilities of what awaited him downstairs.

* * *

Hello readers, both new and old. I must apologize for the extremely late addition to this little piece of mine. I haven't updated this thing in almost nine months to the date which is something I'd like to avoid in the future if possible. A few things have happened since the update, but I won't burden you readers on my troubles. I have the next four chapters roughly outlined along with some ideas bouncing around, but I will probably alter some things around to better suit the tone of the piece. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this update and I will try to get the next chapter out before the next semester starts next month.

From the North, IPB.


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